


White Barrel Cactus

by hakaibunshi



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), M/M, Post-Canon, TW: drinking, rivalshipping - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakaibunshi/pseuds/hakaibunshi
Summary: Short-Story in [6] acts.My contribution toRivalshippingWeek2020.Yugi has been working for KC for a long time now, and these years have helped both him and Seto to come to terms with their past.But their relationship has hit a crossroad quite a while ago. And finally, Yugi has made up his mind about where he wants it to go.In order to do so, he has a tough decision to make.
Relationships: Kaiba Seto/Mutou Yuugi
Comments: 40
Kudos: 49
Collections: Rivalshipping Week 2020





	1. Index

**Day 1:[Kiss and/or Presents](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254102/chapters/69303465)**

> Yugi has yet another gift for Seto. It reminds Seto of a kiss.

**Day 2:[Date and/or Confession](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254102/chapters/69463566)**

> Seto is frustrated because Yugi missed a date. Yugi has a confession to make.

**Day 3:[Office/Work and/or Game Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254102/chapters/69530094)**

> Another late-night shift at the office for Seto. Yugi doesn’t need to be there but he is.

~~Day 4: Monsters and/or Flirting~~ [me taking a break, they flirt enough throughout]

 ~~Day 5: Domestic/Home and/or Watching a Movie~~ [me taking a break, no movie nights for them]

**Day 6:[Hurt/Comfort and/or Sharing a Bed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254102/chapters/70010523)**

> Mukuba will stay in the US this year. Seto doesn’t care for the holidays, anyway.
> 
> Yugi knows better.

**Day 7:[Wedding/Proposal and/or Fireworks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254102/chapters/71387142)**

> The best view over the city. KC tower is more than just offices and meeting rooms. Seto makes a proposal.

**Day 8:[BONUS - Homecoming/Cactus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254102/chapters/73482036)**


	2. the first witness.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RivalshippingWeek2020
> 
> Day 1 [ **Kiss** and/or **Presents** ]
> 
> Yugi has yet another gift for Seto. It reminds him of a kiss.

###  10:23 AM

Kaiba didn’t expect him to come into work this morning, but the typical non-invasive knocking on his office door was still not entirely surprising.

Only four people were allowed near his door without him being ringed up and asked for approval beforehand by the receptionist: Mokuba, Isono, Yugi, and Atem. At least, Atem was noted on the list of exceptions. Though everyone knew he would never come. “Come in.”

Atem didn’t come. Mukuba didn’t knock. Isono knocked too loud to be non-invasive. It was Yugi. The door opened, and his face popped in with a bright smile. Seto didn’t see it; he knew it was there. “Wasn’t sure you were in,” Yugi lied to make an excuse for not scheduling his visit. Although he didn’t need to do that and hadn’t for the past two years. Yugi slid in and quietly pushed the door close. The room was filled with artificial clicks—Seto found the noise pacifying in a way, so he left this feature enabled on his holographic keyboard. Behind that: a thinner layer of classical music. Yugi didn’t recognize the composer. In all the years spent with the older Kaiba brother, he still hadn’t grown to share his music taste. It was all the same to him. “I brought you something.”

Yugi had just returned from a business trip to California this morning. He shuffled through the office and stopped in front of Seto’s desk. Chest puffed out and chin slightly lifted, though he was peeking down toward his boss, he maintained a stiff posture and revealed what had been hidden behind his back: He placed a light blue ceramic pot on the corner of the clean, white varnished tabletop. The clicking stopped. Seto leaned back into his armchair and interlocked his fingers. His gaze was fixed at the point of contact between the pot and the table surface. The skin on his neck tingled. “This is  _ not  _ where they go.” He didn’t like things standing on his desk.

Yugi chuckled and moved over to prop himself against the table—half sitting, half standing—skillfully breaking the distance between him and Seto, therefore making it hard for the brunette to keep looking at the pot instead of his guest. His hands, too, were folded and casually fell on his thighs. Yugi realized it drew Seto’s attention there, which was unintentional. It was simply a way to prevent himself from reaching out to touch him. “No more space on the window bank,” he teased.

Seto lifted his gaze away from Yugi’s hands to look at his face. A cold look, sober eyes, light blue and deep, dappled with something dark toward the center. Yugi pressed his lips together in an attempt to conceal his bright smile. Seto didn't know why he did that. Personally, he liked that smile. “Perhaps it is time to stop bringing more then.”

Seto’s eyes had changed over the years. Although he knew better, Yugi liked to believe it was maturity laying like a color balance filter between the iris and the glasses. But really, most of it came from the accident. “This one is special,” he said with careful softness as if Seto didn’t know that already. Seto didn’t look at the plant. He didn’t need to. He had recognized it even from the corner of his eyes the moment it had appeared on the table. Too many memories attached to something so new. Memories of harsh words and undue resentment. The warmth of a kiss dipped in regret. Even after four years and many other kisses, he still felt that first one like it just happened minutes ago.

Curse his brain. He wished Yugi hadn’t pointed it out. “Is it now?” He said as dismissive as possible. Not knowing where to look next, he turned in his chair and scanned the vast collection of succulents that spread all over the low window bank seaming the glass front to the rest of the office. “You weren’t expected until tomorrow morning.”

Yugi hummed quietly. "I’m not here to work; I just wanted to give this to you.” He, too, took a look at the jungle that had grown between the office wall and the sunlight falling in. An army of thick, green soldiers at Seto’s back. He shifted around in his spot, peeking at him. For the first time, the thought occurred to him that Seto could possibly feel threatened by their presence or large number. Yugi pushed himself away from the table and stepped next to Seto, lifting his hand palm-up for an invitation. “I assume you don’t know much about the language of flowers, do you?” Seto knitted his eyebrows but warily offered his hand in return, a vague understanding of what would happen.

“They bloom in harsh conditions. They can endure all things, no matter how hard.” He grabbed one of the other potted cacti from the window, placed it right in front of Seto, and guided his hand, carefully placing the palm against the thorns. “And you need to touch them really gently; else you are the one getting hurt. But if you do it right, the feeling it leaves is … exciting.” They remind me of you, Seto heard him say, but that was an echo from the past.

Seto retracted his hand, cleared his throat, and took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Just a way to break the air.

“Cactus flowers also symbolize protection from threats,” Yugi smiled.

“That is unexpectedly thoughtful, but I am the last person to need protection,” Seto lied. 

“Or abstinence and chastity,” Yugi added playfully, returning the little one to its original place on the window.

Seto tugged at his collar, loosening the tie just a little. He didn’t appreciate the jab. “You should go home, Yugi.” He stared at his monitor for two seconds, which unlocked the screen. “I don’t need you jet-lagged tomorrow. We have a lot of work to go through.”

Yugi placed a hand on Seto’s shoulder. Actually, it was more a hovering above it since he barely touched the fabric of his slim fit, tailored suit. Seto’s screen showed his agenda on the right and a meeting protocol on the left. Notes assigned to him from the legal team. Yugi would catch up soon enough. He stepped aside. Seto’s shoulder automatically responded with a barely noticeable movement he had little control over. As if to pull him back, but it was already too late. “I’ll go home now. Just wanted to drop the poor thing off.” He quickly checked the wristband watch on his left arm—a present he had gotten from Seto for his promotion two years ago—and walked over to leave.

When he turned around again, the door already open, Seto was looking at him, not at the screen. “Don’t throw it away this time. It might be the last one.”

Seto scoffed but almost broke a smile. Yugi smiled for both of them and left. And the office fell quiet for a while. No typing. Seto stared at his souvenir. It really did look almost identical to the first one.

###  12:14 PM

Seto pushed the chair back and got up to get himself a coffee from the pot on the cabinet by the window. No conference scheduled until 13:00. Enough time to follow up on his urgent mails and check in with Mokuba. He would be out of office already, but it was worth a shot.

He drank the coffee, still standing next to the window. Yugi said it would be the last one. Seto wouldn’t complain. He had asked him to stop bringing plants so many times. But a tight grip around his chest now let him know he had never actually meant it.

And Yugi had made the last one the first one. A way too curated loop to not be of deeper meaning. Seto, holding his KC mug between both hands, focussed on the heat seeping into his skin. He wanted to erase a feeling stuck there. The tender touch of short, thick needles. He had never touched them before.

He looked back at the white barrel cactus—still standing on the desk—tempted to try the same trick on this one. He wouldn’t. Yugi had once explained that this one wasn’t so gentle and considered rather dangerous. Some years ago, this would have tempted him still; now, he liked to believe he was more grounded than that.

Seto didn’t call Mokuba. And he didn’t follow up with his emails. He wondered instead what the subtle message was behind all of it. Seto wasn’t for subtlety. He carried his thoughts on his tongue, and he appreciated others doing the same. He had no issue speaking his mind and didn’t know why Yugi needed to hide everything in riddles. It was always annoying. But this one was outright taunting.

Gifting succulents was by now a tradition and had started with a barrel cactus just like this one, four years ago when Yugi had still been an intern at KC. Not that he ever had to take the internship, but he had insisted.  _ Same as all the others _ , he had said. And refused also the initial salary Seto had offered. Seto didn’t understand this attitude. Yugi was worth more than the others. He should have accepted the price Seto was willing to pay. Anyone else would have. Perhaps, Yugi had feared back then that Seto was trying to pay for something that he wasn't able to offer any longer.

The barrel cactus came as a gift from his first trip to the US branch of the newly established Duel Academy. Yugi, being a software engineer, had no actual business being there. Still, Mokuba had asked him to partake in a special training unit for selected students to be sent to Europe for a tournament. Not because he was a KC employee. But because he was still a champion. When he came back, he proudly presented the grisly gift to Seto. Seto still remembered too vividly how Yugi had bumped into his office, taken off his sunglasses, and presented the needle ball with a chest so proud one could have mistaken it for his firstborn.

Seto hadn’t been impressed.

_ Your office is too sterile! _ , sun-tanned Yugi had claimed and placed the thing on the window bank.  _ And this is easy to care for. You don’t even need to do anything. It’s pretty, right? _ \-  _ It’s ugly _ , Seto had responded. Yugi hadn’t listened.  _ It reminds me of you, Seto. Very stingy, hurtful even if you’re not careful. _ He had blushed— _ But beautiful _ —laughed it off, and excused himself again to return to work.

In those first years after Atem's departure, they were both still wounded. Seto in his pride, filled with regrets. Yugi in his heart, filled with grief. They fought about Atem a lot. And about the “accident” that would have left Seto in a wheelchair if Mokuba hadn’t reacted as level headed as he had.

—It had left him with bad eyesight and just a little more broken than before. 

A brokenness that Seto since had faulted for a lot of things. But especially for what had happened after the early morning hours of the day after the opening ceremony of their Kaibaworld extension. Grant event, exclusive invitations, even more exclusive after-parties. Overwork, regrets, a lot of alcohol, saur mood because of all the people who felt the need to say something to him when all he wanted was for the world to be quiet.

Yugi had been quiet. Especially after that after-party, when he found Seto drunk in the office at 4:00 AM. The event had been a great success. And although Yugi was also drunk and griefing still, he endured all the ugly words coming his way once he closed the office door. Things that Seto had said before in anger. And also things that even he had not dared to say until then.

When Seto looked at the cactus now, it pained him. For different reasons than back then. Nonetheless, it was a pain deep beneath his skin. He was younger then—24, maybe—but that was no excuse. Every day since then, he had hoped to forget the things he had said to Yugi that morning like other people forgot what they did under the influence of mind-altering substances. But he was punished with a solid memory and probably because he deserved it.

_ Don't you hate to look at yourself? _

_ You’ll never make up for him. _

_ It should have been you. _

_ Aren’t you always so self-sacrificial? Why didn’t you offer yourself in return? _

Hollow attacks because he didn't mean any of it. He was just angry for being left without the possibility of revenge. Forever stuck in second place. Now, going on thirty, he knew this was not the end of the world. But then, it was the same as dying. He had slurred at him until he grew tired of the effort and the silent, barely visible tears behind Yugi’s eyes. He wanted to see them run down his face like waterfalls. He wanted to see something so unlike Atem that for the rest of his life, he wouldn’t see the pharaoh anymore whenever Yugi’s reflection fell onto a windowpane. Atem had been gone for years at that point. Yugi had not deserved all that antipathy. He had done the right thing, had made the right choices, and suffered for them plenty. Seto knew it, perhaps better than Yugi did. He had  _ seen  _ him, after all, in the afterlife.

He had seen him, seen his smile, and had understood—not accepted—that Atem was where he ought to be. He had also seen something else in his blissful expression: That he, who had become his gauge, had already been defeated. Therefore Seto was left to wonder if beating him then would have ever even provided the sought satisfaction. He would never know because his journey ended too soon. That is why he was angry and hurt.

He also didn’t want to accept that Yugi’s pain was reaching deeper than his own. Yugi had accomplished what he had not. So he couldn't accept Yugi’s right to suffer. Especially since he did it so gracefully, so much better.

After he had run out of ugly accusations, they had hurt together in silence. Yugi from the pernicious attacks. Seto from having tortured him like that. Seto didn’t know for how long. The sun was up, flooding his office with effervescent mockery when Yugi had finally stepped closer and sat down next to him on the floor. He had taken the bottle out of Seto’s weak fingers; it was empty by then and placed it on the side. He had hurdled up beside him very close, while Seto wished for nothing more but for Yugi to take revenge. To punch him. Or worse even, say something in return. He knew he deserved it. He had—of course—done no such thing. Yugi had swallowed his pain and embraced Seto, accepting an apology that would forever remain unspoken.

Seto didn’t mean to, but he saw his hand hovering over the stingers of the plant. He recalled the feeling from before, but instead of remembering the tiny spikes on his palm, all he felt was the warm and tender touch to the back of his hand, where Yugi’s skin had been … 

The reason he had taken the very first gift Yugi had brought him—a white barrel cactus—and thrown it over the balcony of his 49F office was their first kiss and all it stood for that he had then not been able to accept.

Because he had kissed Yugi, abusing his kindness.

Because right before he had placed his drunk fingers on Yugi’s cheeks, right before his nose had touched Yugi’s nose and he had closed his eyes, he had seen the cactus standing on the edge of the desk just where it would come to stand again some years later. He had seen it and thought how incredibly strong Yugi was. That he was so enduring that Seto might just, maybe, believe he would not break. That maybe he could trust in his presence. When he kissed him to feel something warm, there was no thought of Atem.

Why was it the last one?

Was Yugi finally tired of it all? He wouldn’t blame him. Seto retracted his hand, although the thought of pain in his fingers was tempting right now. It was the thought implied by a last gift that scared him deeper than he was able to admit.

Briefly, he thought about throwing it out. So that Yugi had to get one more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> White Barrel Cactus:
> 
> I am only pretending, I know absolutely nothing about this plant, but I READ that it is one of the more dangerous ones, being able to easily puncture human skin. which could lead to a month-long healing process (sometimes with antibiotics needed).
> 
> If this is wrong and some of you know better, please do correct me in the comments, but .... forgive the mistake, I guess, for the sake of the fic


	3. optional attendance.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RivalshippingWeek2020
> 
> Day 2 [ **Date** and/or **Confession** ]
> 
> Seto is frustrated because Yugi missed a date. Yugi has a confession to make.

### 11:23 AM. 

The video conference call with his Russian investors was scheduled for 11:30 AM and the small dot next to Yugi’s name was still grey. He was listed for optional attendance but in all the years he had worked here, that had never made him skip a meeting. Optional or not, one should send an RSVP. Yes or No. It wasn’t that hard.

### 11:25 AM.

Seto bit down on his lip and checked the guestlist for the 5th time. Five names on the Russian side, seven on his, out of the seven, two had been optional. Out of those two, one had confirmed three hours ago. The other one was Yugi.

He pushed his chair back and switched the display over to the big screen of the conference room. Three of his hired experts sat on the other side of the table, the other four would join in remotely from the US. He was agitated. Yugi wouldn’t come. And not only had he _not_ declined and therefore left him wondering until the last minute, but he… 

Well, of course, he wasn't really wondering anymore. Seto had checked Yugi’s agenda around 11:00 and found his calendar set to OOO until 14:00 this Tuesday. Yugi was in fact not obligated to schedule his day with him personally. He was head of the penetration testing team and pretty much his own boss now; his reports flew in regularly and usually didn’t leave open ends that needed further follow-ups with the CEO. But there were _some_ unspoken rules to their everyday work life! Some fixed points.

Like Tuesday’s lunch between 13:00 and 14:00.

Seto’s calendar wasn’t blocked often, but it was blocked for this time slot. During the summers he would take his lunch on deck 2 at 53F, facing Domino harbor and the Kaiba-Land Waterworld expansion. During less kindly weathers like these days, he would have lunch down in the restaurant on 32F, which would be empty between 13:00 and 14:00. On Tuesdays. Special reservation.

Yugi would generally run a little late, around ten minutes, but Seto would already have ordered for him. They had never agreed to have lunch together. In fact, the first few times Yugi had dared to bother Seto during this sacred time because he didn’t know any better, he had been thoroughly annoyed. But after some time he had found it to be a nice change and it had slowly stopped hurting to look at him. And after almost three years it had become a routine in his work schedule that he didn’t mind and—eventually—had come to enjoy. But how could he order Yugi’s lunch at 13:00 if he was out of office until 14:00? Or did this include his lunch break? Had he purposefully set the time to 14:00 so that he could return to KC tower at 13:00, join Seto for lunch and then start work?

Seto peeked at the screen; it signaled that 6 people were already on the call. 11:29. He waited until the digital clock in the bottom left corner turned 11:30 before opening the call to his conference room. Still agitated. He would get the investment deal he wanted. Yugi was not required for this meeting. He shouldn't be this angry.

### 01:00 PM

He went to lunch as usual. The restaurant was empty. He sat by the window and watched the rain run down the lightly tinted glass window, behind which the city drowned in sombre pastel bokeh. It had been raining all day. A warm rain, the kind that left people indecisive and in a languid mood. Because warm rain was rather nice, but inconvenient nonetheless. And most of the time, it came with a storm.

He ate his coffee-rubbed hanger steak with a brussels sprouts salad, imagining how Yugi would try his best to not frown over it, as he didn’t like the sprouts but didn’t like frowning over other people’s food either. If it weren’t for the rain obscuring the reflection in the window, Seto might have cringed at the feign hint of a smile on his face. Blue cheese and honey added a perfect depth to the meal, and yet Seto wasn’t satisfied. The rich coffee induced flavor was impeccable. He would have nothing to complain about. But something was missing.

When his phone lid up, he checked. He never checked his phone during lunch break, and he was disgruntled over making exceptions now. He knew very well it was a system intern update notification. Half-closed eyes scanning the screen for nothing, _especially_ not an apology. Not that he had expected one. He returned to his office, leaving a big portion of his meal and his break behind.

### 01:48 PM

When the elevator door slid open on 49F, making way for him to return to his work, the draft was heavy with something foreboding. It might have been the faint smell of the perfume lacing the air in the hallway, that was not his own but so familiar that it might well be. As soon as he turned the corner to his office, he saw Yugi, sitting on one of the low leather-skinned cubes in front of the door.

Placed there for design, not for people to actually sit on. 

No one ever just dropped by and waited in front of his office. The few people who had the authority to come here directly wouldn’t show up unexpectedly while he was out. He scoffed and unlocked the door by commanding the in-house AI system. “You’re late.”

Yugi got up but remained standing outside the open door even after Seto had walked in. Only when his boss turned around and looked at him like he didn’t get the joke, Yugi moved, stepped in, and closed the door. He was holding his thin briefcase, which was nothing unusual. Unusual was _the way_ he held it pressed to his chest with both arms crossed over it as if he had to protect it. Or shield himself.

Seto was cold. He cleared his throat, the stinging behind his forehead didn’t disappear. He debated whether to ask him to leave, but had no reason to do so besides the look on Yugi’s face that said so much more than Seto needed to hear, there was little he could do. He felt the oncoming wave and prepared for impact. He gestured to Yugi to sit because he could not endure his unnaturally slumped posture and the shifting around with that burden hidden in that briefcase. Yugi sat. Seto grabbed a pen. Not that he would need it, he just wanted to hold something.

“Sorry, you didn’t wait, did you?” He tried one of his smiles but it fell flat and short. “You probably saw the ‘out of office’ notice. How did the meeting go?”

“I did,” Seto jabbed and leaned back in his chair, lips flattened and his feet pressed into the carpet. Underneath his shirt, the muscles tightened against his will. He didn't offer a drink. His stomach was too heavy to feel this hollow. Yugi still held the briefcase tightly but Seto was already too affected and refused to see the defensive act as a friend asking to be handled with care. “I’m not going to make this easy for you. You’ll have to say it, or I won’t accept it.” An empty threat at best. He knew very well he had no ground to stand on in this fight. Yugi wasn’t his slave. All he could do was make it painful—watch Yugi’s lips curl as he swallowed the bad taste.

Yugi opened his briefcase but stopped once more mid-motion and before taking anything out, he pressed his lips shut and, staring into the leather bag, gathered his thoughts. He had practiced this, but it was hard. “I...,” he took a deep breath. “Seto, I have something to confess, but I had hoped we … could make it … not all business. I’d like to explai-”

“It _is_ business.”

Yugi had sought to talk to a friend, Seto just made it personal. Neither took it as business. For a second, Yugi turned away and sighed, his eyes scanning the wall for the right thing to say. It wasn’t exactly unexpected, but disappointing nonetheless. “I just think… with everything going on between you and me, it feels inappropriate for me to-”

“Don’t know what you are talking about.” _Inappropriate_. Seto kept a dismissing sound to himself and that was all he could offer. Their relationship had been _inappropriate_ for five years now. All the times they fought, all the times Seto had used his power to make Yugi’s life a little harder. And never had he faltered under the injustice. He had endured it all. And it was probably Seto’s fault for growing accustomed to the refuge he had found in that fortitude. It had always just been a matter of time. Had he not pulled on Yugi so hard just to see how long it would take him to break?

“I… spent some time thinking about, you know…”

“Get to the point.” Seto didn’t want to hear it. He knew Yugi well and he was smart. He knew what was coming. He just couldn’t understand how he had missed the signs. He clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt but hoped it wasn’t visible. Yugi sighed again and it sounded like defeat in Seto’s ears. He reached for the letter in his bag and slid it across the table. Seto didn’t look at it. Bold black lettering on the outside would spell ‘Resignation’, he didn’t need to look to know that. “You are aware of the _two_ months advance notice in your contract.”

“I will stay until the end of the year. It’s written in.” 

“I want a detailed report for a suggestion for your take-over.” He made a point out of not averting his eyes. He could have asked him why. Yugi probably wished for an opportunity to explain himself. But he didn’t want to hear it. What options were there, after all?

_Found something better._

_Found someone better._

_Working under the ballast of their history. Bla bla. Inappropriate._

“Seto, I-” Seto wouldn’t aid him. He took the letter and placed it on top of a stack of other documents. He didn’t _want_ to ask Yugi to reconsider. He didn’t _want_ Yugi to reach for his hand in an attempt to calm him down. He didn’t need any of that. He accidentally looked at the cactus and _almost_ broke character. Why had he not seen it coming? It _was_ the last one. He wanted to kill it. 

“It’s past two. You should get back to work.” Thank god his voice didn’t shake. “I will review your department and send you some instructions based on the standings. I won’t insult you by asking you to reconsider, surely you have your reasons.” Just his way of saying that he didn’t want to hear any of them. He wanted to be alone.

### 06:23 PM

Seto’s eyes burnt. He pressed his thumb and index finger against the closed lids, carefully avoiding smudges on the glasses, and tried to listen to the lawyer’s report, while two wastewater specialists were arguing against him. Seto didn’t need any of this. He shouldn’t even be here. It was infuriating and a waste of time and he had more urgent matters to take care of. He heard himself say something, it sounded like he was in agreement with one of the specialists. He tossed a slim folder across the table and got up. He excused himself and asked for a detailed report to be sent to him by the following morning.

The rain outside had not stopped but the sun was gone by now and rain in the dark was always easier to accept than during the day. On his way down to the main lab 4, he passed through the glass hallway from the west into the east wing and listened to the drumming against the see-through barrier. The candour of the washed-out skyline painted his city in tragic swatches of blues and greys and lit up windows.

Once more, he had milled over Yugi as if he was unbreakable. And he knew better, which made everything worse. He had not been able to help himself although none of this was Yugi’s fault. His resignation letter had stated no personal reasons other than he was pursuing his own business. But Seto knew better than that. This was just Yugi’s last act of kindness, not putting any of the ugly things on record.

Too much had happened between them. He was finally tired. It made sense. It was a miracle that it had taken this long.

Seto should have asked him about the reasons. He hadn’t because he didn’t want to hear it. Because in one way or another he was afraid of the implications. Their friendship was _complicated_. First of foremost, because it wasn’t a friendship altogether, never had been. It had been less until it had been something else entirely. Seto took the elevator to -2F, opened the main door with a touch to the security pad, and walked straight into the green lounge that was only ever used for open discussions among the lab workers. No one was here at this time. Labs closed at 18:00. Seto stood in silence and tried to calm himself. The city’s cacophony didn’t penetrate the basement floors.

He should have asked him for the reasons. The verbal abuse was long behind them. He had changed since then. He didn’t blame him for Atem anymore and had they not, in fact, _grown closer_ in their reciprocal overcoming? Seto pushed his hair back with his hands and listened to the humming in his temporal lobe—one of the long term consequences of the accident. Sometimes it helped him feel less alone, other times it drove him mad. It wasn’t always audible.

 _If_ he was to call him now, would he come? Would he sit with him and talk over it and tell him that they could figure it out? Of course, he would. Seto’s body fell on one of the giant bean bag floor cushions spread around the lounge. The heat behind his eyes didn’t fade as he stared into nothing. If he called him now, he would come. But what if precisely _these_ situations had prompted Yugi to run away now?

He _had_ said inappropriate… Of course, he knew Yugi too well as to pretend this was all about their fights and squabbles. Of course, it wasn’t. It was about the other side of inappropriate. Seto tried to remember. He knew very well that the first time they had kissed, it was fully his fault. Yugi had offered physical comfort and Seto had abused it when he clearly shouldn’t. But any time after that, was it not Yugi who had-

His pulse was too high. Seto never forgot anything. He remembered exactly every moment that Yugi had stood behind him, checking a note or a screen, resting his fingers not on Seto’s shoulder but close to his neck, close enough to stroke his hairline gently with his thumb. All the times he had taken insignificant objects from him so their hands could touch. Countless times _he_ had squeezed his hand as they said good night in the elevator. And also every time he had placed a soft kiss on the shell of Seto’s ear when he had come to his office after hours and draped a Jacket over him, assuming he slept when he was just resting his eyes. Seto had to assume there had been more kisses to his ear on such nights when he had not just rested his eyes but actually slept.

His body tensed like it tried to keep his pounding heart at bay. This had all started after he had kissed him that night drunk and broken down in his office. Had Yugi been here, thinking that he _had_ to do these things? Breathing got harder, even after Seto sat himself up, holding his torso straight. Eyes wide and dry. Had he _made_ him behave like this? It couldn’t be, could it? Yugi wouldn’t act against his own will like that because Seto was authority. He was shaking and he knew that he was being irrational now. That wasn’t what was going on and he was sure of that. He counted his breathing, making an effort to slow it down. Paranoia was supposed to be behind him.

He took off his glasses and placed them carefully on the low table next to the seating pillow. When he lowered his head into his palms and the details around him funneled together like in Yuri Petrenko’s paintings, he became angry again. It was solid anger, the kind that stabilized him.

Shoulders curled forward, he listened to the absence of the rain down here. He imagined the lights out in the street. Three months had passed since the last time Yugi had stayed late into the night with him in his office, working on a presentation Yugi had no connection to. His help was always appreciated.

They had worked, talked, worked some more, stopped for a quick dispute over why classical music _was_ superior to whatever cancerous abomination it was that Yugi usually exposed himself and his team to—they did so over some sushi—and Yugi had laughed about Seto’s quote-unquote ridiculously narrow-minded judgments. Seto had frowned and acted sore. Yugi had grabbed his hand to prevent him from walking off and in a very natural process, he had come back briefly to kiss him, before returning to his desk to finish his work. Saba-flavored kiss. Who had provoked it? Perhaps it was him, after all, at least that time. But the way Yugi looked at him every now and then when the nights drew long, it was almost like he left him no choice!

He didn’t dare remember the look on Yugi’s face after they kissed. As if something had pushed it away his face seemed wiped from Seto’s memory and a panic came back to him after all. He gasped only for himself to hear.

Yugi would leave, he thought and remembered the empty chair across his lunch table.


	4. queen sacrifice.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RivalshippingWeek2020
> 
> Day 3 [ **Office** and/or **Game Night** ]
> 
> Another late-night shift for Seto. Yugi doesn’t need to be there but he is.

### Afterhours

Yugi put his phone aside without answering Katsuya’s last message. He leaned back in his armchair; it gave away until he was almost lying down, feet raised on the table that was flooded with scrap papers. Seto always scolded him for leaving ‘paper trails.’ But actually, he didn't, he was very fond of the oversized shredder under his table, and he made proper use of it, too! Pencil notes over notepad.txt any day, he couldn’t help it. He stared at the whiteboard, balancing a pencil between his upper lip and nose. 

Until it fell, and the clank startled him, prompting him to sit up straight. He shook his head and got up. The other team members were gone by now, he wasn’t sure what time it was exactly, but he should probably clock out. A quick look at the watch told him he was still within the acceptable frame of overtime. Hastily he gathered the sprawled-out papers together and covered them with a clear file. He would sort them tomorrow. He threw his phone into his backpack, waved through the holographic screen—top right corner to left bottom—to close it, and took a final look around the workspace. All good. He left before ten. The AI system took note of him locking the door. Then he realized it was Friday and he would not come back to his desk until next week. But that also meant no one would be bothered by his papers, so he left.

### Almost 10

He went up a couple of floors using the stairs for exercise but gave up around 27F—still better than last week—and took the elevator for the rest. The cafeteria service was closed, but a buffet was still accessible for late-shift workers. He grabbed a small tray, a bowl with berries, a coffee, a bottle of water which he tugged under his arm, and two glasses. For a moment, his hand hovered above a chocolate muffin. He bit his lower lip, then added it to the tray and scuttled over to the elevator. It had been a month or a little short of it. Needing space was all well and good … but enough was enough. Seto could have space again later. Yugi knew he had to do something ‘cause no one else would. For the third time now, Seto had scheduled out-of-house meetings conflicting with his Tuesday lunchtime. Even for Seto, king of being dramatically butthurt, that wasn’t normal.

A gentle chime told him he had reached 49F and the elevator door slid open. Yugi pushed himself into the quiet hallway that, to him, was the equivalent of the nervous buildup to short prose with too harsh words and too deep a moral lurking at the end. This floor was always imperfectly silent. Besides Seto, no one worked here. There was a lot of open space and only three used rooms. One was Seto’s office, one was his private room, and then there was one more, but Yugi didn’t know about that one. 

He took a deep breath. The air here was always clean and helped him focus. His heart fluttered. The tips of his fingers were cold—both the one on the tray and the one clenching around the strap of his backpack. He walked slowly, not to drop anything.

No matter how many times he had walked down this corridor already, there was always a question mark at the end. It was always momentous. And since he had handed in his resignation letter, their interactions had been sparse and gruff. Seto was hurt. It wasn’t altogether a bad thing. It meant he cared and didn’t want him to leave. But being sure of Seto’s affections didn’t mean the situation was innocuous. Seto’s snooty looks still stung. So did the calls that remained unanswered. Seto always preached outspokenness and harsh truths. But in fact, his stubbornness made it difficult to have any fruitful discussion. Of course, Yugi’s timidness didn’t really help either. He was aware. But not all was lost; he just needed to find a way to break Seto’s exasperation. He knocked carefully and waited for an answer. Against his expectations, it came promptly. “Come in.” Yugi’s lips curled up hopefully. Seto didn’t mind him coming. Yugi had access to unlock the room but only used that if he was under the impression Seto was sleeping inside. And _only_ to check if the windows were closed or if he had a blanket. But of course, it wasn’t late enough yet for Seto to succumb to physical strain.

Yugi slowly opened and slid inside as quietly as possible. Seto didn’t look up; he was deeply focused on his screen or pretended to be. The office was way too dark. Yugi sat down the tray on a low coffee table in the back of the office and fumbled with the settings for the lighting. Seto preferred the daylight, but he often forgot to turn on the artificial substitute when he worked into the night. By now—mid-November, the sun had been down for hours—his eyes were surely burning.

Slowly he turned up the brightness on the rear ceiling lights.

The office was too big for an office. But Seto practically lived there, so it was probably for the best. In the back was a low couch and a comfortable cushion chair, both facing the coffee table that wasn’t ever used for coffee. Above the couch was a William Blake painting—according to Seto. Yugi couldn't really appreciate it. Thankfully, from his usual spot on the couch, he didn’t have to look at it. The idea that Seto could find it appealing in a self-reflective kind of way pained him a little. The man's expression in the painting, his hollow face, the anxious eyes, and exposed muscles. Yugi didn’t know much about art. And perhaps he didn’t understand it. He had asked Seto about it once. _A warning_ , he had explained. To keep him perceptive.

Beside the couch was the low cabinet that held expensive bottles—gifts from business partners—, and sometimes a chessboard. Not right now, because the board was set up on the coffee table. Yugi grabbed one bottle of _Apothic Inferno_ —this one was not expensive and not a gift from business partners, it was the wine Katsuya and Ryou loved to drink and Yugi had gotten into the habit of sneaking a bottle in at times because he, too, liked it. Seto had on more than one occasion claimed it tasted like the ooze found at the bottom of waste bins. Yugi rolled his eyes. He did love the overly dramatic exaggerations, even if they aimed at things he valued. It was so very much the other that it was hard not to think of it as a lovable detail. Perhaps, because Seto always made sure to prove the statements false. After all, he kept drinking the wine instead of opening one of his gifts. Yugi poured it into the two glasses he had brought. Seto would complain about him using water glasses. No matter how angry he was, some things he could not control.

Seto was still typing and didn’t seem to acknowledge him at all. Yugi placed the two glasses next to the chessboard, dropped his backpack on the side of the couch and, not without taking a quick look at the way the board was set up, picked up the coffee, the water bottle, and the fruit bowl to carry it over to Seto’s desk. Without stopping his typing, Seto caught a glimpse of the time at the bottom of his screen. “You should have clocked out two and a half hours ago.”

 _Should have_. Which meant Seto had checked and noticed that he hadn’t. He tried to suppress a smile. “Still making up for some of the days I worked short.” He had taken off a lot of mornings over the past months. Ryuji and himself had gone all out on their own business plannings, and more often than he had liked, it had conflicted with his actual work.

“Then you must be tired; you should go home.” Yugi didn’t even feel the light stabs anymore from comments such as that. That was beginner-level Seto, and he was prepared for expert mode. He sat the coffee mug and the fruit bowl down close to Seto. Finally, Seto stopped the work for a moment to acknowledge his late-night company. He took the mug, it was hot and weighty in his hands, but ignored the fruits for now. Yugi wouldn’t nag him about it.

“Just wanted to look after the plants.”

“That so?”

Yugi studied Seto’s face, half-hidden behind the KC mug and low, serene steam crawling up from the black coffee as if to aid him in his struggles. His eyes were red, the glasses almost hid the light swelling of his lids. But just almost. His brows were tugged together, giving him a tight expression. It drew a familiar pain into Yugi’s fingers. Aching to stretch out and comb the strands of brown hair behind his ears. He would watch Seto’s eyes close, and his cheek turn perforce into the touch. Micro-movements Yugi carefully observed and stored in the back of his head to remember in the mornings, the off-times, the short breaks between conferences.

Not tonight. Not for now.

He went back to the couch and casually let his body fall into the cushion. “Who’s turn?” They had started this game two weeks ago. He had forgotten by now who had moved last. He didn’t care for chess much, but Seto’s skills amazed him. He played him without even looking at the board. But now and then, when Seto was getting too serious about it and decided to play aggressive with the sole purpose of destruction, it did make Yugi feel inadequate. Unable to compete with either Atem or Mokuba, perhaps the only people who ever made things interesting for Seto.

“White to move.” This was also such a game.

Yugi shook his head and moved. “King to f2.” Then took a sip from the wine on his side of the table. He noticed the lack of music, which meant that Seto was fighting a headache. For a while, he stayed quiet. He smelled the wine and listened to the keyboard clicks, monitoring the chess pieces not going anywhere. Not many left. If he didn’t say something soon, he might end up saying nothing. But the stretch of silence was also comforting. Just sitting together, not fighting or arguing or any of that. “What about you?” He cleared his throat because his voice seemed taut. “Why are you staying late?”

“Germany.”

“Ah.” He wouldn’t be able to help him with that. He kind of knew about the legal issues with the new Duel Academy. Knew enough to be sure that the problems didn’t really justify the past two weeks in which Seto had lived on four hours of sleep. Suppose one was to count passing out at the table. Yugi had come up to the office a couple of times to find him collapsed at the desk in the early morning. Mornings when he had found emails in his inbox sent at four or five in the night. The rest he had heard from Mokuba. Excessive stress was audible in Seto’s gravelly voice and could well stem from overwork. But Yugi felt that the facial tension and the slight shiver in his left hand were not because of work or legal issues. Yugi had messed up, but even now, weeks later, he didn’t really know what he should have done instead. All the scenarios he had played through in his head had led into the same pit. There was no way around the anger. No matter what, he had known well that Seto would get resentful over it. Yugi pulled his legs onto the couch, crossing them in tailor-fashion.

“Queen to f1,” Seto said without even looking up, and Yugi replaced his own knight with Seto’s queen. He probably lost already and didn’t even know. “You could have warned me.” _Ouch_. The thick voice was a knife to the chest, but he figured he deserved this one.

With a weak smile on his face, Yugi looked at him. He could have, indeed. Seto’s gaze clung to the screen when it was so obvious that he graved a conversation. Lips pinched tight, spine stiffer than usual even. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Yugi had never been great at defending himself. Especially not against Seto. He moved his king to f1, taking Seto’s queen, which felt like walking into a trap. “But … it would not have made a difference.” Seto turned around, his jawline hard from clenching his teeth. Yugi tucked at his fingers but held the gaze. “Tell me I’m wrong, then.”

He turned back and probably thought Yugi couldn’t hear the tongue clicking, but he did. “Where did you move to?”

“What?” Yugi checked the board. “King to f1.”

“King on g7. And of course, it would have.”

Yugi took another sip of his wine. “You know what would have made a difference? If you would have let me explain. King to e2.” _Don’t get angry._

“What would be the point of that? You had your mind made up already.” He continued to skim through his meeting notes and add comments to a presentation.

“Technically, it _was_ a heads-up, you know.”

“Excuse you?”

“Have you ever personally received a resignation letter from an employee? I came here before handing it to HR because I wanted to explain it to you in person.” _Easy now._

“King to f7,” he hissed. “Don’t expect me to be thankful. You didn’t explain anything.”

“Well, you didn’t let me, did you?” Yugi tabbed his finger on the table. He didn’t want to fight, but maybe it was one of those days, and nothing else would work. He should keep his voice in check though; he didn’t want to throw accusations. He just didn’t know how to fight well in his own favor. “Because you are too stubborn to accept that I could have a _good enough_ reason. King to e3.” The board was all kings and pawns. He frowned and heard Seto push the anger out through a short breath. Yugi looked up to see him adjust his collar. He took off the tie and opened the top button.

“I _do_ think you have your reasons.”

“Yes, but _you_ think my reason is that _you_ screwed up along the way an-”

“Oh, and it isn’t?”

“Goddammit, Seto, really?” He rolled his eyes and fell backward into the backrest. But in fact, he was glad. Though Seto’s voice was louder now and pitched with a jitter, at least he had taken the bait and allowed him to break the discussion open. He got up. Seto threw a look at him.

“King to e6.” Yugi moved the white king on Seto’s instruction. The chocolate muffin was standing on the table still. His stomach was hard, and a light pounding had sat in his ears. He emptied his glass and poured another. He didn’t know why he had stood up. Or where to put himself now. His eyes scanned the table and armchair for anything that could offer guidance.

The William Blake was judging him. “What about your work here?” He turned when he heard Seto’s voice, too modulate to call it angry. Yugi wasn’t sure he was happy with changing the direction of their conversation quite yet. They had already run from the situation for too long. But for the sake of a gentle handling, he humored him.

“It’s fun, but ...'' He went over to the window—the smaller one, only a single porcelainflower sat on the window bank—and looked at his own reflection obscured by the lights outside. “It’s not what I _love_ to do.”

“But you are good at it.”  
“Seto.” He tried to find someone else inside the self-effacing echo of his eyes in the window. Someone who would be better at this. “There are people out there who would die to get this job. And be more than good at it.” He wrested himself free from the ghost and went back to the couch, not expecting an answer because Seto knew as much as he did that he was right about this. “King to e4”.

“d5.”

“I want to work with Ryuji.” He didn’t sit down again and just stared at the board for a while. “If you taught me anything over the years, it's that one should never be satisfied with less than what they want.” Seto wouldn’t dare argue against himself. “I know what I want now.” He picked up the two glasses and carried them over to Seto. He replaced the empty coffee mug with one of them. “You could stop working.”

“I am not done.” Seto took the glass and smelled before frowning. “You know these are water glasses.” He still drank. Yugi’s heart skipped a beat, and for a second, he was just in love and nothing else.

“You’ve been done for a while.”

“How would _you_ know.”

“Because we wouldn’t have this discussion otherwise.”

“You want to make games? You can make games here, with more resources than you _or_ Otogi will ever be able to obtain.” He leaned back in his chair, giving up the charade. “One word, and I have you transferred tomorrow.”

His heart was pounding. “I also want to be with you.”

“Then stay!”

“God, Seto!” Yugi turned away in feign frustration like he was looking around for a solution. Then came back to lock eyes with Seto. He leaned against the table. Half sitting, half standing. Sweaty palms supporting him.

“I don’t get yo-”  
“Then be quiet and listen, will you,” he interrupted harshly and drew in his breath with surprise, shocked that he had said out loud what had been sitting on his tongue. Seto just grunted without a sign of backfire. No way back now; he was already halfway there. He took another sip from the wine and put the glass on the table where it might leave a faint red circled stain, which would make Seto furious. He swallowed, feeling the heat behind his skin, from the wine or the confession ahead. “I want to be with you. I don’t want to be your employee.” He pushed himself away from the table again and walked into the room to bring some distance between them. “I _can’t_ be … your _employee_.” His voice was brittle, shaking a bit, but that was okay. He didn’t mind being vulnerable like this; it was a necessary sacrifice in this play. “There are enough people already, thinking I got here because I went to high school with you.”

“Why do you care what they think?”

“I don’t want to be the guy who got his paycheck by sleeping with his boss, but I do want to—

Seto hadn’t interrupted him.

He heard the far away peeping from the helicopter pad draining in from the outside. His mouth was dry. He had _really_ expected Seto to interrupt him. But he was quiet, looking at him with his lips parted so slightly it didn’t even look like he was about to say anything. “You know.” _You know?!_ He could feel his cheeks burning. There was a tight pull in his temples. Where had he even planned to take this? He played with his necklace. Suddenly his legs and arms were so heavy. He didn’t want to believe he had made a mistake. But maybe he should have been less forward. What was he even thinking? Who had ever said anything about sex? He turned his face away and buried it in his palm as if he could rub off the embarrassment. Why was Seto so quiet? He never forfeit the last word ever. Yugi, pacing over the carpet, found himself spilled out completely, thoughts all over the place, splashed on the floor and the walls, and no one there to guide him. He went to the coffee table and picked up his king but didn’t know where to move it. “I-” 

He had not noticed Seto getting up until he heard his muffled steps on the carpet. If this were a movie, he would turn around, and Seto’s face would be understanding and welcoming, and from then, things would get better.

He turned around and just about saw Seto’s hand reaching out to him. His hopeful mind lured him into expecting a warm embrace. But Seto took the king out of his hand and placed it back on the board where it had been before, standing close enough for Yugi to expect contact still. Because he couldn’t bear the silence, he started to stammer without any idea of what to say. “S-sorry, I-”

“You lost.”

“What?” He turned to look at the board. He didn’t see it. He also didn’t care. Of course, he lost, but how was that relevant now? “I-”

“Yugi.” Seto took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. All of a sudden, Yugi saw just how tired he was. But was unable to determine whether he was upset, too. Surely, he must have understood the revelation for what it was. But maybe he should say something more, just to make it abundantly clear.

“Seto, if I-”

“Let’s talk about this later.” Yugi really didn’t know what he saw on Seto’s face, but it made his stomach roil. Uncontrollable flushes of heat went through him. What did later mean? And what would he _say_ later? The office was too big. The high walls draped over too much empty space for two people to stand so close. This is why, if they did, it always felt like they were supposed to connect. He wanted to tiptoe and kiss the other. But because this time he wouldn’t, he stepped away from him instead. It didn’t feel right. Seto’s fists were clenched, yet he appeared to be in no spirit to fight or argue. Yugi grabbed his bag from the couch. Seto reached for his hand, icy fingers railing him back like a fisher’s line. Yugi was all attention; Seto’s cheeks were stained with something new. He wasn’t ready.

Yugi undid their fingers. With a heartfelt but pained smile, he got on his toes and put one arm around Seto’s shoulder—until he felt the faint touch of Seto’s palm on the small of his back.

“Alright,” he mumbled, and a long pause settled between them until Yugi drew away. Some battles spawn no victors. “Good night, Seto.” Of course, there was something else left to say. But he was exhausted, too. And didn’t want to say it wrong. There would be another chance.


	5. battle cries.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RivalshippingWeek2020
> 
> Day 6 [ **Hurt/Comfort** and/or **Sharing a Bed** ]
> 
> Mukuba will stay in the US this year. Seto doesn’t care for the holidays, anyway.  
> Yugi knows better.

For hours now, Yugi had been lost in Christmas plannings with Katsuya and Ryuji, abusing the cozy conservatory that spun across the entire 25th floor and KC tower’s superior network connection. Messy video chats, last-minute arrangements, changes to their bookings. Katsuya made fun of the curtains in the background, Ryuji constantly changed the topic to talk about the new workspace they had added to the store. Anzu and Yugi had a hard time navigating the conversation to stay productive in a way. Everyone was too excited. Anzu would arrive somewhen next week, and Ryou would meet them directly at the ski resort. It was the first time everyone got back together in one place. The reunion they had waited for since graduation. It had been so hard to get everyone together throughout the years. After three hours of debating and planning and considering everyone's personal wishes, they ended the call a little past one. Yugi lived close enough, so he didn’t mind missing the trains. Once the quiet settled and he looked around him, watching the plants and listening to the small sound of the artificially pumped up wells, an unexpected melancholy washed over him. It happened at times. Because there was always someone who would never be able to attend any reunion.

He quietly closed his notebook and packed it away before leaning back against the wall. These event floors—there were multiple and they each had unique designs and themes—were like a second home to him by now. Of course, at this hour, no one else was around. He liked it a lot more than his own apartment which was cramped and expensive. It wasn’t just the space and the admirable interior, though. There was also the fact that at any time, he could go up and stop by Seto’s office. He chuckled. Seto was a little like that princess in that fairy tale. Being trapped in his tower. He didn’t quite remember how that went.

At least two evenings per week, Yugi would go up to watch Seto work while he pretended to read one of his books or studied one of the games in the office. If Seto wasn’t too busy, they would play one such game instead. And the games had turned into so much more over the years. Nine out of ten times they would find ways to exchange subtleties. Discussing ambiguous rules was flirting. Handing a dice across the table or exchanging cards was a chance to touch, the challenge was to make it look accidental.

Though recently their evenings had spread out a little and their conversations had been plagued with Seto avoiding the most important topics. But Yugi would wait it out, if necessary. Two weeks to go until his contract concluded. After that, things would change.

It wasn’t too late yet. If he went upstairs now, he could hang around in the office for another hour maybe.

### Half-past one.

He knocked and listened, counting seconds. He tried again, just in case, before checking his watch. Seto didn't usually fall asleep this early. He put his fingers to the scanner on the side of the door, and a low chime followed—different from the usual—informing him that the command didn’t process. His heart sank into him. Had Seto changed his clearance setting? He scattered through the memories of the past days. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. They had gone back to their routine. Like neither Yugi's resignation nor his half-assed confession had ever occurred.

_We'll talk about this later…_

They hadn't. There was another possible explanation for the locked door: Seto wasn’t in. He peered down the corridor, where the space opened up to a small seating area with expansive, cocked floor-to-top windows. And, adjoining, Seto's private suite.

He padded over; it was worth a try. One palm placed against the door he waited, debating whether half-past one in the morning was an acceptable time to knock when Seto had either decided to push him away or left the office to seek homely comfort. _Obviously not_. His knock tried to be a little softer than usual. And the answer took a little longer. "Come in."

He didn't budge. Perhaps, because it was too unexpected, a relieved peek back toward the office door. His access was still there. He shrugged back a little when the door before him opened, and hollow, thin light gushed in dimmed triangular blue onto the floor to grab his ankles. "I said _come in,_ " Seto repeated and stepped back, opening the door fully and some space for Yugi to walk past him.

"Sorry, I assumed you'd still be working now." Yugi shuffled in, making an effort not to touch the chest or the tight abdominal muscles or the brought shoulders. Or even just have their arms brush in passing.

"Is that why you knocked over here?" Seto’s body didn’t per se unnerve him. The moment did. After all, this was his private space, he was practically naked, and Yugi had just quit his company because three years of all kinds of tension lingering between them had started to take a toll on him. With an unjustified sharpness, he thought: _soon_. And then urgently realized: _no, maybe not ever_. Not if they didn’t figure things out. He couldn’t chase him forever.

He _wouldn’t_ chase him forever.

"Sure, call me out like that if you must," Yugi sighed. It wasn't the first time he had been here, but it sure was foreign land compared to the office, which was already thoroughly invaded by their failing romantic efforts. Every corner of it stored a bittersweet memory while this suite was barely touched by any of it. Heavy drapes of dark blue silk cloaked the wall, drawn to cover about one-third of the massive window front and leave the rest bare, not even thin curtains or blinds shielding the privacy. No other building was high enough to encourage the thought someone might be able to look inside, but to Yugi, it still felt invasive, and it shied him, even if only the night sky was watching.

He turned to look at Seto again. He had only been wearing boxers before, but now a loose-fit, dark grey turtleneck covered half of him. It didn’t take away from his lure, so Yugi needed a moment to pick up on other subtle details; His hair stood roughed up; he didn’t wear his glasses and was barefoot. "Oh, god!” Yugi drew in a sharp breath and one hand through his hair. “You've been sleeping already..." Sleep was one thing Seto always lacked—insomnia having worked itself through his adult life like cancer. Yugi hated the idea of waking him up. 

Seto scrunched up his eyes. "It's two in the morning," he said like it indicated anything. They both knew very well that it wasn't a standard time for Seto to be sleeping, yet he chose to make Yugi feel guilty for intruding.

Yugi rubbed his temples. "You didn't have to answer the door. I'm sorry, I'll see myself-"

"It’s alright. Do you want a drink?" Seto had already walked to the cabinet—a replica of the one standing in his office—and opened the bottom left door. Yugi swallowed the intuitive _but you were already sleeping_ , knowing that Seto would cuff back something like _I wouldn't offer if I minded_.

He bit his lip. "Sure. Thanks." And watched him pour two glasses. Unsure whether he wanted Seto to put on trousers or not, he sought distraction in the two Dali sculptures between the cabinet and the window. Those were not replicas from the office, but they were just as uncomfortable to look at as the Blake over there. The office didn't have art besides the Blake. Seto's room was a gallery compared to that. He got startled by the brush of the back of Seto's hand to his shoulder. Almost gentle but dismissive at the same time. He took the glass, and the aroma went straight to his nose. Apple wine. Too sweet for Seto, usually. The window hidden behind the curtain, the one closest to the bed, stood slightly open, the silk moving lazily in the winter's breath. And although the draft didn't reach Yugi, a shiver went down his spine.

"So?" Right.

 _Just stopped by to see you_ wasn't ever really a satisfying motive for Seto. Yugi sat down on the low couch to give himself some time. Toward the bed, he spotted the random pieces of clothing scattered on the floor. He drew back and frowned. An empty wine glass stood on the bedside table as well—and not on a coaster but the dark ebony surface nonetheless. On the floor was a Christmas present, by the looks of it. Wrapped nicely—presumably by a skillful department store employee. Yugi lowered his drink and pushed its thick smell out of his nose. A faint hint of tobacco hid behind it. Maybe. He touched the base of his neck, temperature rising in his rigid chest, and looked up at Seto, who was still standing some feet away from the couch, solid between hospitality and hostility. Seto had stopped smoking two years ago. "How are you?" Yugi asked.

He watched Seto pull back a low armchair by the couch and sit down, legs bare, obscuring Yugi’s focus with their allergenic character, even though the moment called for concentration. "How _should_ I be doing?"

Seto was already agitated. Unsure how it had escaped him before, Yugi picked up on the ever so slight slur in Seto's voice, the way he didn't distinctly pronounce every single word like he usually did. Agitated and drunk. “Don’t be like that. Tell me what’s going on.”

Seto snorted. “Why?” He drew his eyebrows together. “Do I need to give you a record of my personal matters?” It hurt where it was supposed to.

“That’s not what-” Yugi drew in the air, and it turned stale in his lungs. Seto didn’t lose his cool over work projects. It was something personal. But they had spoken this morning and everything had been alright. Mood swings were not, as such, uncommon for Seto, but this apartment was filled with red flags, too many to ignore. “I came just to see you, but what I see is that you’re not doing well. So-”

“I’m peachy, thanks. You could just send a text for that.”

Alright. So it was going to be one of _those_ nights. Silence was the most comfortable to Seto in these moments, but the most difficult for Yugi. And where would it go? Silence rarely had solved anything between them. He still applied a long pause like a band-aid to the rough moment. It wasn’t impossible Seto would have been happier shooting some messages back and forth instead of having an actual eye to eye interaction, where he was unable to hide subtle give-aways behind proper punctuation and the occasional text emoji. "You're upset. It's not because of me, is it?"

"No." That was both good and unsettling. It potentially meant there wasn't much he could do. "And I'm not upset."

Yugi peeked at the steel grey wrapped box in the corner. Pressing his lips close, stressing them against his teeth, while he puzzled together what was going on. He had never spent the holidays with Seto as he had always had plans with the gang, and Seto had always spent that time with Mokuba, who came over from the US only twice a year—Christmas and his birthday—and whenever business required it. Yugi hadn't spoken to Mokuba in weeks, but he wondered if the flight notification missing in his shared calendar had potentially anything to do with this. Yugi loosened his posture, leaned back, and placed one arm casually atop the backrest to display comfort.

Inviting Seto to their Christmas holiday was pointless; he would not just decline because he still held unreasonable grutches against some of their friends but would feel insulted on top of it. "Mokuba isn't coming this year, hm?" Seto's brow twitched.

"He told you?"

“Uhmn.” He shook his head. “Just saw that there was no flight booked for him yet.” Seto didn't let go of his drink. He observed the juicy liquid fall against the ice cubes as he carelessly moved the glass around in his fingers. Yugi thought the pressure behind Seto's eyes was quite visible. "I guess he wants to spend his holiday with his fiancee,” he tried. 

“Whatever.” A short right-sided shrug. “He'll find out soon enough what she’s really after.” Yugi sighed and pulled his legs up onto the couch.

“I don't think it's fair to say that. Toward her or him for that matter.”

“Cause you're too naive. And so is he.”

“He's old enough to make his own-”

“And who are you to know that?” Yugi took a deep breath to retreat. In this, he had no choice. There was no talking when it came to Mokuba. Seto would always claim to be the one and only person out for his brother's good.

“Fine, I'm sorry.” To appease, he raised his hands and decided not to further poke into this specific matter. He moved a little closer to the edge of the couch. “Though you might not get around inviting them both starting next year.” Whether Seto liked it or not, by April the following year, Mokuba would be a married man.

First, a dismissive grunting, then Seto emptied his glass; he didn't put it away. “I don't need him to bring that woman here.”

“You know, by pushing him away like that; you hurt him just as much as yourself-”

“No one is hurt, Yugi,” Seto cut him off. “He's quite comfortable with her over there, and to me, it's the same.” His voice, modulated too purposefully, wasn’t even the worst. Avoiding eye contact was what drove the point home. It was so hard to watch him get trapped inside his insecurities. Yugi had seen Seto unravel more than once, and it was always quite tragic—barely even visible from the outside. However, a few people around Seto knew how to look past the facade into the cracks and bruises.

But Yugi was empathetic enough to understand it. Mokuba was his only family. And Seto had long since given up making a secret of his over-protective tendencies. But under that spite for anyone who had the potential to hurt his brother was the schmerz of being left behind. “That's hard to believe,” Yugi murmured under his breath, unsure if he said it to himself or Seto and regretting it right away.

“Stop projecting, Yugi. Not everyone thinks everything is so goddamn important.”

“It's also not wrong to admit when something _is_ important.”

“And I would if there was. Not that it would help.”

Yugi removed one of the sofa cushions by his side and skidded all the way to the corner. Seto remained unmoved, and there were two ways to read that. Yugi wagered and stretched himself, reaching for Seto's glass to take it from him. “You're making it harder for yourse-”

“Alright then!” Seto jerked his hand away so forcefully Yugi flinched, expecting the glass to drop to the floor. Instead, Seto put it down on the table; the clonk still left a bitter taste, so did the raucous tone of his voice. “Let me humor you then. Say I _am_ sad, then what? I am sick and tired of you always needing to fix everything. Why _can’t_ I be sad and miserable?”

“I- I don't say you can’t be sad, Seto.” He was suddenly out of breath. Seto would never admit to being _miserable_. This admission was a tool to strike Yugi personally. “I just wanted to help.”

“Well, I don’t want you to sponge up all my emotions like they are yours.”

“That’s not what I-” Seto stood up and prowled behind the chair like Yugi was a threat to him. It left a peculiar pain behind where his body's shape was slowly lifting itself out of the cushion. Seto was between the chair and the window. Behind him, faint-blue snow drizzled down, tinted by the windows and the lights of the tower's exoskeleton—small crystals dancing around in the cold, reflecting the lights and shadows of the night. Seto's words, unfortunately, had touched to some truth or another. Yugi had heard such an accusation before, though no one had ever made it sound so vile.

“I'm sorry, Seto.” What else was there to say? But Seto just rolled his eyes and turned away.

“Whatever.” He pressed his palm to his forehead. Yugi was lost on the sofa. “What’s it to you, anyway?”

“What’s it to me?” His lungs scalded. The night wore down his patience quickly. He could not see Seto’s reflection in the window, which also helped loosen his tongue. “I care, for christ’s sake! Will you ever understand it?” He was overreacting. “How often will I need to say it?” Because they had this fight before, and not just once. And Seto knew this was the one thing Yugi could not bear: The assumption he didn’t care or—worse—had no reason to.

Yet another dismissive nasal sound and the turn of a head, eyes too guilty to look at him. “It means little in the end. All that care and love of yours.”

“Wha-” Yugi’s chest hurt and it was hard to breathe. The way Seto said _love_ was distinct from any other word. As if it caused him physical discomfort. It wasn’t the first time Yugi noticed this. And it always disabled him. This was part of Seto’s trauma, and he didn’t know how to touch it. But he could not always leave himself defenseless either.

“Did you not love that friend of yours, too.” He was talking about Anzu, and he knew her name very well. “And yet you left her.”

“No, you don’t get to do this.” That was eight years ago. Yugi retreated into the cushion but didn’t quite know where to place himself. A bundle of open nerves waiting to be pinched. There was a tremor in Seto’s eyes, and Yugi knew he had challenged him.

“In a way … you loved Atem, too.”

Yugi had sprung out of his seat before he even knew what he was doing. “Stop it.” His lip was shaking, and he feared to discover just how far Seto would take this. “You don’t get to bring this up.” These things had been easier to endure when he hadn’t been in love yet with this man who was so sick of losing and had grown so bitter in his senseless self-protection.

“And you let him go.” Seto stared at the floor, but Yugi could see it still, the flicker in his iris just before the fire died out. This wasn’t about Yugi’s helper syndrome any longer, now Seto was just throwing axes and spears, hoping to strike before he could be conquered. No one would stand by the end of this, the question was just who fell first.

Yugi stepped closer. “Look at you.” He could not hear himself. He didn’t know if his voice was burdened with the touch of surrender. “None of this has anything to do with _you_.” Fiercely but too close to a broken heart, he looked up and through the barrier of the steel blue into Seto, who had finally turned to face him. “You do not get to use their pain for our battles.”

“What's the difference,” Seto said. But what he meant to say was _you left them, and now you’re leaving me_. “Everyone is alone in the end, Yugi.” Fatigue hollowed Yugi’s anger, and instead of looking at Seto, he stared at the floor. A stretch of heavy silence kept them apart, and the distance between them was untouchable.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“I don’t feel _any_ way.”

“You need to stop looking for betrayal in everyone.” 

“You know what?” He took a sharp breath. “You should go home.”

This was all wrong, even within the confines of their typically nonsensical arguments. Seto had never given up a fight. “I wa-” But Seto already stumped toward the door and opened it without hesitation, showing him the way out. His eyes darted at him, their thick blue about to spill out, tainting the swollen water line, their endless contrast of black and ice seeping into the thin lids. Until he cast his look down, and his chin drew toward his chest. “Just go, please. I don't have the energy for this right now.”

This was the most vulnerable he had seen him in a long time. And perhaps it would have been the right moment to embrace him, to prove him wrong and not let go until he had started to recover. But as Yugi played it out in his mind, he found himself afraid. Truly afraid of Seto refusing the gesture.

He left. The door fell shut, and the small sound was very brutal for all the missing force behind it. For a while, he stood in flimsy shadows and crescent luminescence, wondering how they had gotten here. They were supposed to be good for each other. The skin around his eyes was thin and dry, he kept rubbing his hand over it, and it got worse and worse. This night would never end, he thought. It would just drag into the morning, leaving him contrite. He pressed his lids shut tight and swallowed. Stopped breathing for a moment to smother the reaction.

### Almost three

With tried valiance, Yugi endured the threat until the pressure behind his eyes started to ebb. He lost his sense of time and perhaps for himself because when Seto came rushing out of his apartment, Yugi was sitting on the floor, not exactly sure when he had moved there, propped against the cool window, the moon’s halo prevented him from sleeping. Seto almost dashed past him but stopped abruptly when he spotted him. Yugi was too exhausted to lift his head. From down there, Seto appeared even taller. “... what are you doing on the floor?”

The voice echoed just a little next to the glass and the night that was getting old. But it was the softest he had ever heard him speak. Yugi’s half-shut eyes searched the details of the moment. Seto was fully dressed now, ready to run out into the winter to follow him. But his socks were mismatched, so he hadn’t paid much attention to his appearance. Yugi sniffled and turned away, wondering how long it had taken Seto to let go of this useless pride of his that had no space between them but not really caring enough to look at his watch. “I’m sitting,” he said and wished he could sound more loaded. More spiteful. But there was no spite in him to fuel that notion, only tired euphoria.

Seto stepped closer and squatted down before him, face greyed out by the glow from outside. Desaturated, aside from the shimmer in his eyes that would always be found by the moonlight. His shoes would crease. “Don’t be an idiot. You could be home by now.” So that meant it had been about half an hour or more.

Yugi huffed. “You’re right, Seto.” He shifted but forced himself not to look at him. “I don’t get to tell you that everything is always going to work out. Or that you should be alright.” Suddenly, his head was a rock about to roll off his shoulders. “But you don't get to push me away and then accuse me of leaving. Do that to whomever. Not me.” Words falling out of him due to a lack of self-control. “This is also your problem, Seto. You need to start to make an effort if you wish for people to stay close.” He didn’t want to give Seto a chance to talk back. “And no, testing their limits isn’t the kind of effort I mean.”

“I-”

“You told me I am worthless,” he mumbled. “A second choice. Weak. And still, I am here, choosing to see your trying over your insults. I'm the one fighting while you just keep on surrendering. If I’m weak, do tell, what does that make you?” From the corner of his eyes, he observed Seto’s face grimacing. His hands closing tight to purge the accusations. “I can't promise I'll be here forever, of course not. We’re both grown up enough to know that there are no such promises. But I'm here now. Is that so insignificant?”

The silence following was painful and buried them again under the uncertainties that were constant affiliates in their relationship. Yugi had nothing more to say because everything had been said. And Seto didn’t know what to say because all he ever said was hurtful, and all he wanted was to stop hurting the man he loved.

Seto was one of the most influential people in the world. But the thought of Yugi abandoning him was terrifying. Because if Yugi did, there was no hope for anyone else. He would never admit it. But that was his truth and had been of significance for a very long time already. He had prepared himself every single day for Yugi to leap away. But as the years went on, it had become harder and harder to believe that the moment would actually come. The sweet vows of their closeness had made him careless, but suddenly now, separation was all he could see. Once the year turned over, Yugi wouldn’t come back. That was his outline. And diverting from it, allowing himself to think Yugi would make an effort to stay with him, was opening himself up to disappointment. He was dizzy.

“So …” Seto felt both too hot and too cold at once. His limbs tingled, restless as they were. Out of sight, out of mind. No matter the things Yugi claimed and said, there was a pattern to humans, and Seto knew those patterns broke harder than bones. Not to mention all that was more fragile even. If Yugi were to stop being around him, he would get used to the distance and realize that it was so much less painful than the close combat he suffered when being around him. Seto swallowed. “This-” He moved his hand and gestured at something between them, the ghost of an idea. He didn’t know it himself and wasn't ready to name it. “Won’t just end once you leave?”

Yugi closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of his arms. “Oh, Seto…. Sometimes I want to…” his voice was muffled and finally smothered with a chuckle of disbelief. He breathed the smell on his own sleeve. His smell alone, and it made him feel so lonely because maybe this would have been a perfect moment for Seto to hold him. Instead, he was once more left to hold himself. “No,” he finally lifted his head, and with a smile devoid of strength, he reached to touch the tips of Seto’s fingers. “I quit so that … this …”—he flinched. “Doesn’t have to end.” He laughed into a short and meaningful gasp. “Actually, no. I quit so this can finally start.” Seto’s fingers were icy, and it almost made him cry. If Seto was this nervous at vaguely referencing their affair, then all of Yugi’s efforts had amounted to very little.

“Come back inside,” Seto said and stood up, trying to pull Yugi up with him, but Yugi tore his hand free more aggressively than necessary.

“No.” He kept his voice low, mostly for the lack of energy. “Every day I have to look at you and quietly celebrate your successes when really I want to kiss you when I am proud of your work.”

“I-”

“I suffer quietly from your failures because any heartfelt reaction would be met with scrutiny from around us when all I want is to be close enough to make it better.”

“Yugi-”

“I have to keep myself at arm’s distance even though I want to be _so_ much closer. And I want to yell at you sometimes. Because you can be a jerk, and you deserve to hear it.”

“...”

“But I would be scared to suffer different types of consequences than others. Because I'm not just an employee. Not a friend, not a boyfriend either.” He knew Seto was holding a comment but he didn’t care. “All that, have you ever even thought about it? And all you do is accuse me of leaving when really I was seeking a solution.” The heat in his face made him feel intoxicated, although he hadn’t touched the drink at all. He watched Seto breathe and sturdy himself, swallowing his useless counters. Good. Yugi didn't want to hear any of them.

“Yugi. Let's go inside. It’s too late to go home. I can sleep on the couch.”

“No. I ...” He wanted to say that he didn’t _want_ to stay. But didn’t think that lying now would help the situation. “Can I stay in the office? I’ll be out by 7.”

Seto sighed. “Of course. But it’s not comfortable.”

“I know.”

“I will give you some clothes, and if you want, you can at least take a shower here.”

Yugi thought about it. “Thank you.” He reached for Seto’s hand, and Seto pulled him up.

### Half-past three

Seto’s walk-in shower was too big for one person. Just like everything he surrounded himself with. Hot water ran over Yugi from the overhead ceiling shower, framed by dimmed LED lighting. His eyes were closed to the pleasurable soft touch of the water padding his head, and the drizzle from the tips of his hair, falling onto his face and the stiff shoulders that were too heavy to be his own. When he finally left the water's peaceful confines and its noise, he saw a towel and some clothes lying on a stool by the sink. He hadn’t noticed Seto come into the bathroom at any point. An exciting kind of embarrassment that he was already familiar with warmed the skin in his face. He turned just to double-check that the shower walls were obscured in some way but found the glass perfectly clear despite the air still being hot and dense. Not that it really mattered; they were old enough. He grabbed the towel and rubbed himself dry.

The clothes Seto had left him were, as expected, way too big for him. He had to tie the cord to keep the tracksuit pants above his hip, and the sweater covered a good half of his upper thighs. He kept pushing up the sleeves but refused to roll them. The idea of Seto covering everything of him was better. Upon a look into the mirror, Yugi felt so comfortable, like the clothes were made for him. On his way out, he tripped over the long trouser legs but caught himself before falling. On the other side of the room, Seto was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch where Yugi had left the cushion misplaced. It was now held tight by this man in his mismatched socks, still wearing his coat and all. But his shoulders moved peacefully up and down. Yugi tiptoed a little closer. He had fallen asleep. Without him, he wouldn’t be able to get into the office.

…

Yugi stood lost in the middle of the room, pretending to think about the options, one of which was to wake Seto up. _Never_. He could take the bed, after all, but that was admitting defeat. He walked over and dug into the blanket—so enormous and fancy it made him smile and shake his head softly. A fragment of dreams between his tired fingers. He ruffled it up into his arms and carried it over to the couch, where he silently dropped himself down on the floor close to Seto—facing away from him because he wanted to be angry in _some_ way. He furled himself into the down duvet and buried his face where he found a piece of his smell. He drew his breaths as long as possible and his legs toward his chest, watching the night through the window until his hurting eyelids fell shut. His wet hair left water stains on the blanket. Only vaguely did he notice Seto moving toward him, pushing his arm under Yugi’s head, and another hand reaching around his waist. He could feel Seto’s cool nose against his neck. The only reason he could stay put and not turn around was that he was half asleep by then. But he was pretty sure it wasn’t just a dream when he heard Seto say _I wish you would not say sorry, every time I hurt you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do feel I cheated in the end.  
> They aren't even sharing a bed, hell, Yugi doesn't even share the damn duvet. But... they are sharing a floor, so please let it count I guess ~wwwww


	6. convergence reaction.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RivalshippingWeek2020
> 
> Day 7 [ **Proposal** and/or **Fireworks** ]
> 
> The best view over the city. KC tower is more than just offices and meeting rooms. Seto makes a proposal.

### 06:23 AM

“No.” Seto checked the mirror and twitched a brow at himself. “You know what, it's your project. It's up to you.” The tie had to go. Fuck the suit, fuck the tie. There wasn’t even any meeting today.

He fled the bathroom, leaving the damned thing hanging over the sink, and tried to keep his voice leveled. “That’s fine.” While tightening his wristband watch—he changed his watches according to his suits, just like the ties—he peeked at its face. Analog. Matt black with glossy black Roman numbers. High contrast against his paleness. “Listen, Mokuba, I have to run, just-” _Deep breath_. “Why don’t you shoot me over the document, turn off the computer, and-.” _Say it_.

He _could_ say it. He should say it. It wasn’t that hard. _Spend some time with your girlfriend_. “No, no meetings.” - “Sure.” - “Bye.”

And then a right-sided monotone filled Mokuba’s sudden absence.

Seto didn’t bother taking out the earpiece. He hadn’t said it. From the light-blue wall across, the wine cabinet peeked at him until he erased the impression, rubbing his palms over his face. _Don’t_. Once more, he checked the time.

Without a tie, he straightened himself up in front of the wall mirror and undid the top button on his egg-shell pinpoint dress shirt. It would do for today.

### Almost eleven.

Ryou sat with his legs pulled up onto the dashboard, feet bare, and followed Yugi’s eyes checking the mirror. Yugi merged right for the exit to the next service station. Katsuya and Anzu in the back weren’t paying attention to anything else but Anzu’s Instagram feed.

Between the Ski resort and Domino City stretched a fifteen-hour drive, omitting breaks or patches of heavy traffic. After starting the journey back the previous evening, they had stayed the night in a lovely little coastal town, and now Yugi had continued the drive until their first rest stop, where Katsuya would take over this car and Anzu would change over to the other to take over for Honda.

They had spent four days together—more than ever since graduation—, and yet it heaved a mockery, a tease at best. An appetite left unanswered. Seven adult winter holidays had puffed into thin air at the snap of a finger. What remained was the bittersweet aftertaste of too much laughter—the strain on their abdominal muscles more noticeable than the one in their legs.

After he had filled up and parked the car, Yugi checked his phone. Two missed calls from the insurance company and a message from the boss.

> **As you’re coming back today,**
> 
> **should you feel like it, you can come over in the evening.**
> 
> **I can pick you up from the airport.**
> 
> [ _07:21_ ]

Yugi grinned and had this escapade promptly answered by a playful flick against the back of his head. Groaning, he threw a look at Katsuya, who peeked at him over his sunglasses. “Ain’t good, that smile of yours. What does he want? An essay by the end of yesterday?”

Yugi lifted his chin. “Wants me for date night, it seems,” he flexed, and Katsuya feigned to puke. Yugi rolled his eyes. “Oh, get lost.” Some things would never change.

They made their way to meet the others at the shops; hands pushed deep into their pockets as if the chill didn’t trickle in through their collars anyway. “I just want your best, man. _Mr. de Vil_ ain’t it, and you know it.”

Shizuka, who came up walking arm in arm with Anzu behind them, playfully boxed her brother's shoulder before Yugi could pull up his own defenses. “Stop trying to ruin everything. I’m happy to see it’s getting serious.” The last part was directed toward Yugi, rather than Katsuya.

“Serious? That guy is a maniac! The more _serious_ he gets, the more danger. You’ll know I’m right. But don’t worry, Yug, I’ll be here for you when shit hits the fan, just tell me, and I’ll beat him up.”

“Speak up once you can match his abs, my dude,” Ryuji chimed in, holding a six-pack in his arms like a comfort-pillow, and dragged Katsuya into the convenience store, to get coffee for everyone.

 _This_. Yugi’s very definition of happiness. His friends and all their opinions, each on their own a treasure. Shizuka's romantic support, of course, and Ryou's well-intentioned teases. Katsuya's justified disapproval. Anzu's worried encouragement. They all had their place.

### 02:03 PM

The office was a haven. Clean. Empty of distractions. Cold light dripping into his day while the winter fog clung to the bottom of the city like a pest. Two monitors flashed codes and data and updates—leaked information for a Duel Links extension planned for early March.

The leaks were minor, and no reason for concern: more talk, more overall excitement. Thirty-three thousand new registrations since the first story had dropped. Far more interesting would be Yugi’s report regarding the latest fixes. It would already be signed by ‘a more than suitable colleague’—Seto forgot his name—but Yugi was still in charge until December 31st. And once he was back from his vacation, he would go over it so thoroughly that his signature would still shine through between the lines, phrases that had grown into his writing like a fungal structure—commas where none were required, just to ensure readability. The flow of his language—always trying neutral, never quite managing. Too poetic for his own good, but so little sense for poetry that he wouldn’t even know it.

On the other hand, Seto wished Yugi would use at least the spell check feature on his phone as if one additional tab to confirm the change was too much effort. 

> **I’d be** **happyto** **!**
> 
> **We took the car. No need to pick me up.**
> 
> **meet you at KC**
> 
> **Will send ETA later.**
> 
> [ _11:19_ ]

To Seto’s left, the barrel cactus stood at the edge of his desk. Each morning, the cleaner placed it onto the window with the rest of the collection to ensure the surface was without any blemishes before Seto came into work. Seto appreciated it but moved it back every time. Now, a small box sat next to it. White box. No shop name, no sticker, no nothing. “What?” he huffed at the plant, expecting no answer. A notification popped up on the right-hand screen, and he immediately touched the panel—Mokuba’s project protocol.

A few minutes passed between reading the first sentence and reading the first sentence again. And again. And again. So he took the small box and moved it behind the round pot, out of his line of vision. “Now you watch that for me.” Despite the missing tie and open collar, Seto sat trapped tightly inside his skin, which he seemed to have outgrown overnight. Or within the past years. He really couldn’t tell. He tabbed the calendar and checked the date as if it could have changed within the past two hours, frowning over talking to a cactus, but relieved his madness was on display only for himself to see and judge.

Still no message. Seto worked himself through the diagrams and charts, trying to be distracted. His left foot kept tapping the floor. Working on Mokuba’s document came with an extra package of thoughts—about Mokuba. Seto had always tried to _guide_ his younger brother while making sure not to raise him a copy of his own shortcomings. At times, he had failed in this task. And arguably, he had, once or twice, failed purposefully—when Mokuba had shown signs of growing up too independently too fast.

Seto hadn’t meant to be clingy. And it wasn’t the word Yugi had used. Not when talking about Atem and not when talking about Mokuba. But it was what came to mind, now. Not least because of a small box hidden behind a cactus. Clingy. _Needy_. The thought drove nails into his stomach. What if Yugi didn’t want this? What if this was a great idea in his _own_ mind only, where holding people too close for their comfort showed them they mattered? What if Yugi wouldn’t know how to say no? Even if he wanted to.

Seto forgot about lunch. But he finished all he could possibly do on Mokuba’s protocol and retreated into the lobby on 49F for a short break. He checked his meeting schedule for the following week. Not much was happening over the holiday season. How had he endured this time of the year before? Well. Mokuba had been there, distracting him. He missed his babbling—even the one about his ill-mannered girlfriend.

 _Fiancee_.

Damn.

Seto closed his eyes, leaned back, and let the phone rest on his belly just when a low buzz saved him from more thinking. Maybe Yugi, letting him know about his arrival time.

> **I think we lost you guys!**
> 
> **Wrong exit???????** **(￣□￣)**
> 
> [ _14:12_ ] 

Or not. The phone disappeared into the pocket, and the cute attempt at a text-based facial expression faded less quickly from Seto’s memory than he’d liked it to. He wondered if Yugi was having fun. _Hoped_ that he was having fun. Yes, that was more like it.

Heavy headed, he got up again. Perhaps he could eat. He should eat. Instead, he went back to his office and started a game of Go against himself, trying to predict the moves Yugi would make. Chess wasn’t Yugi’s strength. But his strategies in Go were creative. It was hard getting into his mind.

Taking the moves on the board as small breaks, he fought through his remaining work. Mokuba's report had accumulated 103 comments all over the 80-page document, 9 of which were justified, 94 were nitpicking. He had since moved on to two magazine features coming out around New Years'. He had to go through and approve everything. Also, the contracts for their manufacturers in China were due to examination. He was still in need of a legitimate reason to cut ties with one of them. Unfortunately, since his mid-twenties, he had made it a rule for himself that personal dislike didn't hold up as one of those legitimate reasons. So he had to go over the quality test results and reports, hoping to dig up some blotches.

### Around five.

After Anzu had changed cars, Ryou, Katsuya, and Yugi were left to lead the convoy. Yugi leaned forward between the two front chairs and reached to turn down the music. “ETA?”

“For real now?”

“Oh, come on, I don’t say to hurry; he just wants to know when I’ll arrive.”

Ryou changed the display on the navigation system, not indulging in Katsuya’s spite. “Around ten.” 

“Little later, if I need to drop you off directly at the tower of Babel,” Katsuya tuned in. He was the only one not laughing at the comment. “What? You know, traffic in the center is bollocks, even at nighttime.” 

“You should ask him to come to your place instead,” Ryou added, triggering another chuckle from Yugi. “Don’t laugh! He should see how the poor folks do it, right?” He knocked Katsuya and gave Yugi a cheeky wink through the mirror.

Katsuya clicked his tongue. “Who the hell you callin’ poor folks, mate? Yugi makes more bank than you and me together.”

“No one is doing anything,” Yugi diverted and leaned back again. “Besides, trust me, if you had the choice, KC tower is where you’d fancy spending your date. You two should try. I can get you passes.”

“I’m sure the view is gorgeous, but I reckon the food is made for Instagram feeds rather than people.”

“Well, you’d be wrong; it is actually amazing. Taste-wise _and_ for Instagram, of course.”

“Next you tell me his bed is comfy. I won’t believe it. No doubt he sleeps at his desk.”

Yugi took a big breath and pressed himself into the backrest, biting his lip. The tips of his fingers still savored the texture of Seto’s blanket as he had dragged it to sleep on his floor. The bed had promised such comfort. He might not stop regretting that he had denied himself the pleasure of trying it, out of stubborn anger, until a better day would hopefully offer another chance. “I wouldn’t know,” he replied, pleased about the bullseye guess of Seto sleeping at his desk. He liked that his friends could suspect such details, despite Seto keeping a harsh distance. After all, they still all belonged together.

Ryou turned and took off the sunglasses, staring at Yugi into a long pause. Even Katsuya got distracted by the camp reaction. “Shut u~p,” Ryou finally teased, a typical sweetness laced his voice.

“What?” Indeed, Yugi had never made it clear that they had not been intimate in this way with all the times he had talked about his relationship with Seto. A subconscious decision.

“You wouldn’t _know_?”

Yugi pouted and put the phone down again. “Tell you what, his bed _looks_ twice as comfortable as yours. If anything, I wonder how his posture is so straight when his bed is so soft. _Looks_ so soft.”

“ _Looks_?”

“Yes, well, we can’t all be in a hurry all the time, alright.”

“Hurry?”

“Will you stop this and speak your own sentences, full length, please?” 

“You always said he’s a good kisser! Just shocked to hear you don’t know about his bed!” He turned to face the road again. “Or is it just that you guys prefer other places?”

“Yo.” Katsuya’s driving got rougher with his mood.

“Yeah, sorry, I know _you_ don’t wanna hear it. Just curious as to what is going on with these two.”

“Nothing is going on. At the moment.” Nothing was definitely not true. Outside it had started to snow softly. It wouldn’t stay, just the weather catching on to the pother. “We’re not dating anyway; you know that.”

“Hmm… an excuse, but not exactly a reason.”

“Well … good things take time. Sometimes.”

“He’s been holding you out for quite a while, mate,” Katsuya finally chimed in, never letting go of a chance to remind Yugi how unfavorable their affair was.

“You focus on the road,” Ryou dismissed him.

Ryou didn’t mind Seto. If it were misguided affection, it would have stopped after a while. But Yugi was a grown man and still blushed when talking about his rich boy, still prattled over his looks when he had too much wine, and smiled like a proud wife when he appeared on TV shows. Or in ads. They had their silly bickers with each other, sure, but they’d find their way. “You know I cheer for you; I had just hoped you guys were getting somewhere.” Ryou was possibly the one who liked Seto the most. “How long since you had sex?” He was also the one that Seto liked the most. Yugi grabbed his phone again and started typing.

“You know. I don’t miss it _that_ much. There are more important things and-” 

“Bullshit.”

Yugi laughed and shook his head. It was bullshit. He did miss it. Some days more than others. And since he and Seto had never agreed on any status, he had thought about dating again. Or more casual stuff. But even just considering anyone else felt weird at this point. He had set his eyes on Seto, and in the unfortunate event that they wouldn’t work out, he assumed it would take him a great deal of time to get over it. Sex really was his least worry in this, all considered.

> **ETA little after 10.**
> 
> **That alright?**
> 
> **Also, nvmd the message earlier.**
> 
> **Wrong chat.**
> 
> [ _17:16_ ]

“You’ll let me know when it happens, tho, right? Don’t let me pray for you forever.”

“Hmm.”

> **Figured.**
> 
> **I assume you’re not the one driving.**
> 
> **Tell whomever to drive like a decent person.**
> 
> **ETA is OK.**
> 
> [ _17:17_ ]

Katsuya turned down the music a little more. “Yug, seriously, though.” And for a brief second, as he looked up, Yugi caught the attitude in Katsuya’s eyes through the mirror.

Over the long nights in the winter cabin, they had talked about all that had come to mind, including also the way Yugi’s resignation went. And about the evening Seto and he had had another fight. He knew Katsuya was seriously worried about him. He wanted his best friend to be alright. If that came at the expense of Seto’s loneliness, so be it. “If he is giving you a hard time for leaving the company-” Ryou tied his hair up and interrupted Katsuya.

“I don’t think he will.”

“How can you know? You heard how he overreacted. He can’t bear the thought of Yugi having _anything_ besides him. And you know what, if it gets serious, he will find a way to keep you away from us as well. I’m waiting for it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“He’s worried, but once he sees that this will make things easier, he’ll come around.”

Yugi was grateful for Ryou’s diplomatic stance. Katsuya had a point. But he was overprotective of Yugi and tended not to want to see the positives. He put his phone away, leaned forward, and turned the music back up. “Oi, I'm not done nagging.”

“Well,” Yugi smiled, “I'm done listening. One week left to go. How about I update you on the situation then? I wanted to ask him to stay with me for New Years’.”

“No! What about our cocktail party?”

### 07:27 PM

Seto sat his drink aside, and with a short but precise right-hand motion, the screen before him dispersed into myriads of tiny translucent whites. No haptic feedback, just a hollow gleam before the office was left in lowlight. Beyond the windows, the day had finally turned his back on him, and the moon cast its borrowed light in through the tall glass. His succulent army hurled bizarre shadow plays on the floor. Seto had run out of sufficient distractions.

He pushed his chair back, had two clearfiles filled with semi-importance disappear inside a desk drawer, grabbed his phone and the small box hidden behind the barrel bodied cactus general, and got up. On his way out, he ordered the smart system to shut the lights and turn off the music before locking the door.

With his gait disciplined never to be aimless, his steps rarely wavered. But this evening, a barely noticeable hick-up occurred, and he slowed just briefly as he passed that space where the light fell brightest into the open area outside the office. Where Yugi had sat a few days ago, skin dulled by twilight, prostration, and anger. He didn’t want to remember that now.

The elevator door opened to offer refuge in the small space’s belittling kindness. In a fairer world, where people got what they deserved over what they wanted, Yugi would have gone home that night, leaving Seto alone to deal with his temper. And sure as hell, he wouldn’t have allowed him close again after. In a fair world, Seto didn’t get to have Yugi. Because Yugi wouldn’t have to put up with a Seto and all that in phases occurring brutal disdain for the world.

The door had shut, but the elevator didn’t move. He hadn’t pushed the button. Quickly, the hideout turned into a claustrophobic chamber. For a moment, he hovered above -2F but pressed 32F in the end. One glass wasn't going to do any harm. Beneath the fine-tuned abdominals, a wrench got hold of his guts, and through his inside jacket pocket, the small box worked like an amplifier, painfully manipulating the beat of his heart. Indentation marks left by his nails in the skin of his palms would fade quickly enough. No witnesses to his fight against rue's metronome.

“A red one. Preferably sour.”

“Yes, sir,” the sommelier sing-sang, always happy to see the young director. She cared for Seto, in a way, and retreated to find what she felt suited his sternly exhausted but restless mood this evening. Like she always did. Most of the time, her inklings were right on target—both in regards to his mood and in regards to the wine he would patch it with. Seto appreciated her a great deal.

Instinctively, he approached that table in the VIP section, behind the actual dining room, a memoir of delightful Tuesday noons, butchered with a tragic ending. For a minute or two, he observed it—a thin spread of night light spilling over the cloth here as well.

He knew it was no longer his favorite spot. He knew he would not sit there again. So he sought divergence. Self-indulgence. A place suitable for his solitude. A retreat. He found a four-seat aisle further back, no view over the harbor but direct view onto the reminiscence: a table meant for one, invaded and conquered a long time ago, now freshly abandoned.

The sommelier came not before Seto had placed his jacket over the backrest next to him, leaned into his seat, and neatly folded up the cuffs of his shirt, exposing the pallid forearms and the expensive watch. The veins showing through the thin skin on his wrists—their blue accentuated by the lighting. He would have never noticed, but Yugi pointed it out before: that his wrists relayed a particular delicacy. _Frailty_ , he thought instantaneously. Not the word Yugi had used. But ultimately, _delicate_ was just sugarcoating; verbal gloss on _fragile_ , was it not?

He agreed with the flavor, and the sommelier retreated again. Seto would miss Tuesday lunches. If he didn't mess it up, Fridays would give a chance for dinner after work. Now and then. If he didn't mess up.

Two news stories, one interview with a French patent competitor, and three glasses of wine later, the unproductive thoughts had finally outrun the worthwhile ones. His focus was lost between yesterday and all the possible maybies of tonight. Whenever he caught onto it again, mumbling headlines out loud to tie it down, it escaped right away, chasing the deepest shadows in his mind. _What-ifs_ that he didn’t want to consider. The minutes dragged on, not fast enough but too fast all the same. They left him with cold fingertips and the lingering sensation of being unprepared. It was time for a break.

Out on one of the observation decks, Seto felt for the small box in his jacket pocket. Again. A last, scrutinizing look across the floor. The heat lanterns spread out over the entire terrace—skillfully designed to integrate into the space, matching the plants and designs—radiated so much heat into the world that, despite his thin blazer offering little to no protection, it had become a warm place. Comfortable, some might say. Yet, the air whispered of winter once he stepped close to lean over the terrace balustrade. It cooled his forehead; a kind gush of wind moved his hair aside. Eyes closed, he felt the world, and for a moment, it didn’t seem like such a painful place.

The deck was empty of people, of course—the few employees still working late shifts or trying to finish an overdue project report or budget sheets wouldn't bother them here. Automatic displays in all elevators and above the door to the deck itself would let them know it was reserved. Even the hall staff had been sent home by now. He confirmed that the wine was where he had put it just a couple of hours ago. It was one of the expensive ones from his office, courtesy of _he-didn’t-remember_. Or _didn’t-care_. The thin layer of dust shading the bottle allowed assumptions on just how long it had sat in the cabinet unacknowledged—disrupted only by his handprint. He had fought the urge to clean it off.

### Nine something.

They had parted ways with the other car about thirty minutes ago. Honda and Ryuji would drop off Shizuka first. Anzu was staying with Honda, so they would go straight to his place after. Ryou and Jounouchi would probably go out once Yugi had been dropped off.

Yugi was a little tipsy, having finished five bottles of beer between Ryou and himself, and listened to their bickering in the front, no less entertaining than a good podcast. They were basically married, he thought to himself and chuckled, and leaned against the window.

Through the glass, late December seeped inside and cooled his head. Cars pushed past them, all tired and on their last sprint, a spark of energy at the thought of coming home, where they would prepare for the year to run out. Sporadic clusters of heavy traffic since they had come off the highway into the city.

He wanted to spend New Years’ with Seto. As they slowly drove past the more expensive residential areas, the night started to affect him. He was exhausted from laughing and arguing, from late-night fireplace stories and the memories shared—the talking and re-living. The tears. Some of joy, some of grief. Some things would never change.

Half of him wished it hadn’t ended so quickly. But part of him was ready to go home, too. So many things would change in the upcoming weeks. So many things that he had been looking forward to for years would finally take shape. His fingers found themselves reaching for his necklace—a cartouche Anzu had given to him. A long time ago, when she felt him breaking under the weight of his loss. He hadn’t taken it off since, not once. Of course, it carried Atem’s name. Just like the one Atem had taken to his grave. Yugi hadn’t been allowed to keep the weight of the puzzle. Having his name in its stead helped in moments when he wanted to hold him tight.

Domino’s skyline grew taller against the dark canvas of the night sky. Like restless water, but awfully still. Houses changed into towers, and stars hedged lit up windows, telling their stories of the people behind the curtains. Perhaps, over at KC tower, Seto was looking outside into the night just now as well, waiting for him. Maybe. Yugi closed his eyes and enjoyed the thought completely.

“Yugi, what do you wanna do with your luggage? I can drop it off at your place.” Katsuya checked on him through the mirror. Ryou also turned—and presented his half-full bottle, wiggling it between the seats. Yugi answered by taking it and stealing a sip. It was the last one. They smiled at each other and felt a little bad for Katsuya, who still had more than an hour left to drive.

“That would be awesome, thanks. But it’s also fine if you take it home with you. I can pick it up later.”

“You sound tired. Sure you can handle date night?” Ryou teased.

“I’m gonna be fine, thanks. You should stop drinking; else _you_ are not going to be able to handle Katsuya anymore,” he joked back and smiled. “Seto will manage to make me wake up again.”

“No need to share, thanks,” their driver interrupted.

“As my best friend, it’ll be your _duty_ to listen to me gush over him,” Yugi exclaimed and laughed at Katsuya’s frowning. He leaned back onto the window, which was a little warmer now. The sky had almost disappeared, barely visible then, peeling away behind layers upon layers of other lives. Surely there were love stories out there more complicated than his. Behind the next corner, as they turned into Bergen district, the first neon screen popped up behind the Bergen7 luxury mall. Purposefully placed attention signals fading into a countdown before the KC logo emerged white on white. Telling the world about the advanced SV.06 system to be launched next year. Blue-Eyes White Dragon, flashing over the screen real enough to make you believe she would jump right out at the end of it. Same image on the next three billboards, flowing with their car’s movement, as if the dragon was guiding them along the steel structure of her city. He fantasized Seto’s smell.

When he opened his eyes again a second later, Seto’s face was talking over the streets from Cribbage’s high built LED screens. His voice vibrated through the streets of the famous nightlife district but wasn’t audible inside the car. It was a new CM; they had filmed it only a month prior. Yugi had seen it hundreds of times since then and would never grow tired of the way they did not need to accentuate his eyes; there was little that could match the passion they inherited so naturally, even after some light had faded from them, lost in another dimension.

 _Seto_ Kaiba had been a brand in Domino ten years ago, mainly because of how vigorous he carried the weight of that name given to him long before he really took it over for himself, ready to reform the world. Now, at 29, he was a national icon, no one who didn’t know his name, very few who didn’t know his face. He was a muse to the world. Brands in all kinds of branches fought over the right to slap just a hint of him onto their products. He was the very definition of fame and glory. Yugi’s personal favorite: White Dragon’s Ice. A color contact lens many falsely attributed to Seto’s signature monster. But really, it was a homage to that gaze that held so many promises for the future.

Just like the flutter in his stomach, all this wasn’t new to Yugi. But there was a strange sobriety to the thought that soon, he would step outside of the inner circle and become a _personal_ matter of this man who was also a symbol. The flutter turned into light nausea, sweat on his forehead. He had stepped away to make it possible to be with him, but maybe he wasn’t as prepared for that as he ought to be. Possibly, they would face an entirely different set of obstacles. Press, rumors, ridicule? Should they attempt a relationship, would they need to hide it for the rest of his career? Could they hide it? If not, how severe would the damage be? Who would suffer more: Seto or him?

“Oi, Yug?”

“Huh?” He flung up and tried to erase it at once, this dreamed up headline. This imaginary downfall. But it was too late; his throat was cotton dry. This was _not_ a mistake. But that didn’t mean he was ready.

“I said: I’m gonna go around from the west entrance because there seems to be tough traffic up north.”

No, he _needed_ to! Seto might be famous. But he, too, deserved a life aside from that, right? And Yugi was the one—wished to be the one—to take part in that. So this was just something he had to accept.

If it meant living in secret… he could do that.

If it meant listening to Seto lying about it in interviews… he could take it. An affair buried in NDAs. He would accept it.

“Yug!”

“Yes! S-sorry. It’s fine. Sure. Drive up the left… not here, the next one. West has employer parking. I have my badge so we can drive in there; this way, you don’t have to stop on the side somewhere.

“Perfect.”

### 10:12 PM

Downstairs, as he stepped out of the elevator, he already heard a car’s door slam shut somewhere around the corner. He frowned. People who slammed their car doors. Even if it was a rental.

Yugi just broke a hug with Bakura, who spotted Seto first and waved. Seto nodded in response. Not sure if the movement had been detectable at all. Yugi turned around, and when his eyes found him, Seto had to bite the inside of his cheeks to prevent his lips from parting. Pulse thick in his throat.

Yugi was too far away to see the details, but Seto humored the selfish idea that there was excitement on his face. Jounouchi came around. They talked. Seto watched as the blonde pulled Yugi into a hug. Yugi’s arms around his neck for just a second too long before he pulled away laughing, slapping his palm to Jounouchi’s chest in a playful manner. Seto felt it as a strange absence against his own. He shifted his weight, cross-armed. Clenched jaw. Stiff neck. He turned away just as Jounouchi faced him—no need to see that look; he knew it too well already.

Eventually, Yugi grabbed a shoulder bag, watched as his friends got back into the car, and waved them goodbye as they drove off. Once the gates had closed behind them, he turned around and grinned sheepishly. He collected himself and hurried over, past Seto, and pushed inside.

“Aren’t you cold?” He huffed as he dashed into the elevator, pressing himself into the corner. Seto pushed 52F, occupying the corner across.

They looked at each other, between them the idea of a lover’s reunion. One of those you witness at airports. Coming closer to sink into a tight embrace. They drank on the theory and left it at that. Just their eyes held each other tight. “I was only out for a minute.”

“Good.” Yugi rubbed his hands together, but more to keep them busy than for the sake of warming them up. Seto mused him with the hint of a smile.

“Where is your luggage?”

“Katsuya’s trunk.” Yugi shook his head and came a little closer. Like fern, his fingers reached toward Seto’s leather gloved hands but shied back. They were in the elevator still, with the cameras and all that. “He’ll drop it off at my place. He has a key.” Seto swallowed. He didn’t have a key. “How was your holiday? Did you take some time off?” 

Seto was supposed to be the one asking Yugi about his holidays. But he didn’t because Mizaki was bound to come up. The one that was difficult to hate, no matter how much he wanted to. Most of the time, because she was abroad, he was able to bury the jealousy, but thinking about the two of them spending the nights together in a small bungalow hut in the snowy mountains after not having seen each other for more than a year-

He flinched. Thankfully, the chime of the elevator interrupted his thoughts. “Have you eaten something?”

“We ate on the way.” Seto led the way, and Yugi slowed down a little to get a better look at his back. Always so tactically clothed by tailored suits. Seto looked the most powerful when his shoulders were bare. Yet, every layer of expensive flattery of fabric added a whist of danger. It was easy to see why he always had the upper hand in business disputes, even when he wasn’t talking. 

“Good. If you get hungry again, let me know.” They went straight to the bar, where Seto retrieved the bottle and two glasses.

“Wow~,” Yugi marveled. “What’s the occasion for bringing out the heavy calibers?” He snatched the bottle, and with his thumb, he pushed through what little remained of the dust, and Seto thought it sensual. “Well. I’m not going to complain,” he snickered, put it back, and raised his glass to Seto. “What are we drinking to?”

Seto placed one hand on Yugi’s back and pushed him toward the side of the Deck, from where they looked out onto the city, harborside. It was their favorite part of the metropolis and one of the little things in this regard they agreed upon. The question still lingered, which meant that Seto needed some time. Yugi had time. He loved the outside decks. This one had double flooring, with meandric canals of water set in between the lower wooden flooring and the see-through top coating. Extravagance, to say the least, and it had taken him about three months to get used to walking normally without his heart dropping into his belly every time he ‘stepped into a puddle.’ On the sides, it seemed like the miniature rivers were falling off the floor, but miraculously, no waterfalls come off the edges of the deck. That and the explosions of greens highlighted by intricate sparks of exotic flowers all around the sparsely spread bar tables truly captured him each and every time. He was always waiting for butterflies to emerge.

“It might be a little early for that. But I wanted to-” Seto’s husky voice caught his attention at once. Yugi studied the lines in Seto’s face, painted in thick, beautiful strokes by an unknown artist that he admired, while Seto studied the deep red in his glass, eyes peering beyond all that, unable to look at Yugi. A rare sign of discomfort with what he felt the need to say. For a moment, Yugi sat his drunkenness aside and listened to the pause. Seto breathing, then talking. “I want to congratulate you.” Provocatively calm, he closed his eyes and swallowed before continuing. “You know, I have my difficulties seeing it, but I am sure you made the right choice. To find what you want to do. In the future. I can’t not respect that.”

Yugi starred in response. Unsure whether more would follow. His chest burned, and there was a humming in his throat that _could_ be the result of too many drinks today. Or the pure joy over Seto just swallowing his words to say what he _knew_ Yugi needed to hear. 

He peeked at the security camera to his left, and Seto picked up on the movement. “They are turned off,” he informed him—the words hanging between them like the opportunity they presented.

“Yugi.” He raised his glass slightly. “Thank you for … everything. And … good luck. Truly. I-” A shot in the distance cut him off; Yugi flinched and almost dropped his glass. He could not help himself but turn toward an explosion of reds and golds lighting up the night sky. When he turned back toward Seto, his glasses reflected some of the flowery colors at the rim of the right glass. Yugi wanted to say something. His nose prickled, and he only managed a sniffle. 

The sentiment overwhelmed him. And what was with this moviesque setup? Not a complaint at all, not in the slightest. He laughed.

They drank. Seto looked away a lot. Yugi got emotional. His hand played with Seto’s cuffs, and it became hard not to look at the acute angle of skin exposed by the open collar on his shirt. The urge to kiss that skin. He loved the ties, but he loved them mostly for what they promised was underneath. He asked multiple times, but Seto insisted the fireworks had not been at Kaibaland and were in no other way related to him; he had nothing to do with it. Yugi believed it. It made them better, anyway.

They stood beside each other. Yugi’s arms crossed over the metal barrier, his chin resting atop, overlooking Domino. Seto leaned back against the same railing, elbows propped up to hold him, watching Yugi watch the fireworks.

They wouldn’t go on forever. Seto didn’t care for fireworks, but, looking at Yugi, naturally caught some of the spectacle within his peripheral view.

Blue sparks ripped through the sky. Petals of complicated flowers flared up and burned out in seconds, just to be followed by another, saving the illusion: other shapes, other colors, each preceded by a tiny bang. Like a countdown. Now or never.

Seto finished his second glass and tilted his head to watch the eyes next to him flicker with amusement. Each little bang in the distance seemed to send a ripple through Yugi. It must have been eleven almost, yet the night up here was illuminated, providing no safety within its flushed out darkness. He pushed himself away from the balustrade, placed the glass onto a close table, and came back to stand behind Yugi, sudden enough for their bodie’s touch to prompt Yugi to straighten himself and turn his head, but Seto prevented him from doing so, placing his fingers, bare by now but drained of their usual coldness, on the side of Yugi’s head, softly locking him in place, like he needed him to watch the fireworks until the very end. “Seto?” However long that may be.

“I-” Yugi felt the fingers on his temples shiver. The sensation matched the motions spreading through the sky. “I know,” Seto’s voice carried his insecurity through the space between them. “One day, I will have to apologize. For all the times I have hurt you.”

“Seto, I-” Again, his attempt to turn around was thwarted. Seto didn’t want to be interrupted. Or faced. Or stopped. Yugi pressed his lips together and stared into the night and the sparks of fire therein. Seto was breathing tight against the winter air. Struggling for the right words. There were no such things as right words. No wrong ones either.

“Maybe as far back as middle school.” Pink, and blue, and white roses set the sky on fire. Some pyromaniac, playing with his feelings, and along with the strangled disembodied voice behind him. “You'd deserve that.” Right now, Seto loved him, and that was all there was. All the nights Yugi had lain awake, biting his pillow to curse Seto’s past for scarring him this deeply—it all seemed conquerable in moments like this.

Out of everything, what he felt most at that moment, was the distance between Seto’s lips and the back of his head. If only Seto could learn to break those spaces. Disregard them just like the obstacles he encountered professionally. His kiss in Yugi’s hair right now—that was all he needed.

But right now wasn’t about Yugi. These words were meant for Seto. He needed to say them, far more than Yugi needed to hear them.

“But I can't. Not quite yet. The cumulative amount of pain I have caused you... If I admit to it now, I'd be too ashamed to stay with you.” Yugi wanted to turn and look at him, his right cheek’s skin burning against Seto’s fingers. “And even with your promise that... You want to stay with me after leaving KC; I still can't just be happy with that. For _that_ , I do apologize. I wasn’t born greedy, but I guess it is what I’ve become.”

One of his hands went fishing something out of his pocket, but Yugi, against all urges, remained facing front, watching the harbor catch the falling lights as they went down in the distance. From this vantage point, nothing was invisible, beside the man behind him. A small, white box hovered in front of him. Yugi gasped audibly, but before he could say anything, Seto intervened, his voice stiffer. "Don't get your panties twisted now. It's …”

Gently Yugi brushed along the arm to his right until his fingers reached Seto’s hand. Without taking the box, but holding onto it together with Seto, he turned around. Suddenly sober, but drunk all the same. “I- it's not that,” Seto clarified nothing.

“What is it?” 

Seto huffed; the flashes of light around them concealed it well if there was a shadow of red on his face. “Open it.”

Yugi still hesitated. _It’s not that_.

“It's nothing … too weird, I promise.” He had found himself again, glaring into Yugi’s eyes as if he didn’t know fear, nor doubt. “I am not going to be mad if you decline. It’s not a present. Just an offer.”

Yugi took the box and opened it to find a black metal card. No writing on it besides the KC logo. Of course, he had seen these before. Similar to his own access card, which was the white model: personnel cleared for all floors. “What...?” He looked up. The scene faded out around them, hazy all the flowers and explosions, while the bangs behind Yugi grew louder. He even flinched when one of them felt utterly too close for what it was. He turned to confirm the fireworks were still as far away as before.

An irrational fear of dropping the card weakened his knees. Like when you take a picture with your phone out of a 30-floor window. Even though he clenched the thing tightly in his hands, pressed toward his navel. A key card to Seto's apartment? No. The suite didn't have a card reader—just a fingerprint scanner.

“The floors that had been remodeled throughout October.”

Hotel suites mostly for essential business partners. “The apartments?”

“Most of them are fully furnished and lack a proper kitchen and such—just hotel rooms. But the three apartments on the 15th are empty and fully functional on their own, no need to rely on in-house chefs. Unless you'd want to…”

It clicked. And Yugi snapped for air.

“Don't feel like you have to take it. I just ... I know you _do_ like this place. And ... maybe you can still come up for … anything, really. Now and then. I thought ... Maybe you'd like that option.” _I’d like that_. Just say it.

There was one last, loud blast behind them. Yugi didn’t flinch anymore. Seto was no expert in reading people and rarely attempted it, but that night he allowed himself a short glimpse into the poetry before him. The glistening in Yugi’s eyes, just before he rubbed a sleeve across his face. The tight grasp around Seto’s arm, after shoving the card into his pocket. The change in his voice, taking on a breathless quality, how he pulled him down, so his arms could wrap around Seto’s neck, his body pressed against the other.

Seto’s twisted mind could read _anything_ into this, but he decided that this wasn’t how _no_ would look like. And wondered why he had ever doubted him at all. This man who had never really made a secret of his affection. Yugi’s lips against his neck, and then he noticed that his own fingers had already reached into Yugi’s hair, the other hand trailing down into the small of his back. For the past three years, Seto had denied that he was scared of holding Yugi this tight. But there was no denying it now: the body in his arms was so close that any next step could only lead further apart. That was it, the cruelty of closeness.

Yugi faded from his grip; just his palm remained on his chest, surveying the eccentric heart beneath it. The one thing Seto was unable to control, all his efforts rendered futile.

“Thank you,” Yugi whispered affirmation. Unexpectedly releasing Seto of weeks and weeks of built-up tension. He brushed some hair behind Seto's ear and stretched his legs again, tiptoed. After he took off Seto’s glasses, his arms went back around Seto’s neck like they had realized it hadn’t been enough. From there, he pulled himself closer, so close that the tips of their noses met, both cold from standing at the rail. Against that, the kiss felt like hot sauce on ice cream. It hurt a little, only because the last time they kissed had been too long ago, and too much fighting had happened in between. And also fireworks ripping through his chest now.

“What are you doing?” Seto huffed into a short break for air, while his hand slipped aptly between Yugi’s clothes and the soft patch of skin on his lower back, coursing Yugi’s body to press forward where there was no space left. “Weren't you the one complaining about the inappropriate nature of this? Shouldn’t you wait another three days?” He said, praying for Yugi not to take it seriously, cursing himself for never being able to shut up.

Yugi chuckled in response, their foreheads pressed together, breathing into him as if to take the word from his lips. “What are you going to do about it? Fire me?” He laughed, but more kisses came to swallow the mockery, more tongue, more rapid heartbeat, black dots before his eyes, and Seto’s fringe tickled the skin on his face.

There was nothing he could do to hold it back. The effort to push back the tears while Seto swallowed his breath caused him to cough, separating from the other. Seto’s worried hands on his cheeks. Trying to undo the tears. “Yugi?” Of course, Seto could not know they were of joy and relief and the overall emotional state his vacation had left him in.

Yugi fled back into the embrace, pushing his face into the crook of Seto’s neck where the skin was soft and sensitive, and the expensive shirt would catch the salt and stain. Big hands on his back.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, half laughing, half crying. Too many feelings at once. He didn’t know which one to blame.

Seto gave him a minute. But eventually, he brushed his fingers through Yugi’s hair and pulled his head away so that he could look at him. It was a beautiful mess. Behind it, the fireworks had seized, and the night had calmed into black and an ashy layer of burned sulfurless powder and potassium nitrate. He held the face between his hands and tried to understand it like one of his paintings. There was still laughter beneath the tears. “What is it?” He had asked before he could even realize that some of the possible answers scared him. Too late now.

Yugi sniffled and fell back against the railing and threw back his head, catching some air. “Sorry, I-” He wiped his face with his sleeve. “Just … happy.”

Seto’s brows twitched.  
With a smile, Yugi nodded and reached out to pull Seto close by his cuff. “Yes. Really.” He bit his lips and studied the clean nails on Seto’s hands. “I want to say something.”

“Please.”

“Just because I … well, we kind of always skipped it.” His fingers intertwined with Seto’s as he bit his lips, trying to avoid stuttering or stumbling over his own words. “So, actually,” he took a breath and looked at Seto from below. “I love you. And, well-” He pushed out his breath, not seeing Seto’s heartbeat change. Or the effort it took of him to not avert his eyes. He didn’t see that the sour taste under Seto’s tongue was torture, for the sweetness of Yugi’s kiss remained as a memory longing to be refreshed. “If it wasn’t clear: I would absolutely love to live here but-”  
“But?” Seto’s voice was breathy. Like he would cast a spell to shut Yugi up forever if he said the wrong thing.

“What if … people start talking?”

“But you're no longer an employee.”

“Yes,” he turned away, not entirely sure if he would be able to make his point. Seto seemed upset now. “But it’s still going to be best for … your career if people don’t talk too much.”

A stretch of silence came between them, a void filled with distant city noises, overnight flights, and winter gust—the absence of fireworks. Seto’s hand on his neck, gently forcing his head straight. “Yugi. Do you want to move here?”

“I want to, but what i-”  
“No what-ifs.” His brows drew together. He leaned closer, leaving the shadows of doubt behind. Muscles tight. “Do you want to be with me? As my partner, I mean.”

Yugi shuddered under the words. This was it. This was Seto asking him out. Right? No more messing around. Both of them. A real relationship. With all that came with it. And he didn’t ask to hide it? “I do.”

Tailored, polished shoes pushed in between his dirty boots, and Seto’s weight pressed against Yugi. His sweatpants and Seto’s suit left little to the imagination. He felt him too much and not enough. Then a kiss on his forehead. “Good,” Seto said, his voice sturdy again like it ought to be. “Then don’t ever think about _people_. Your friends will respect your choice.” They reconnected. Yugi felt that power on Seto’s lips that he had admired since they first met. He picked up Seto’s pulse in their echo as they drew away. “Everyone else is irrelevant.”

Yugi caught them again, gently biting into the cold thin skin of that impertinence. Ghost images of giant billboards flashed through his head, reminding him of who he had fallen for. Soto’s taste was that of red wine and determination. “Do you have plans for New Years’?” Yugi felt safe here, within Seto’s defenses, no longer beyond.

“You tell me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who thought I was going to finish this before RivalshippingWeek2021 ey! Not me!
> 
> OK I mean, _technically_ , we are finished!  
> You can stop here.  
> They made it, they got their happy end!
> 
> OR  
> ... if you want to stick around for one more ... There was a special extra day, right. So.  
> New Years is going to happen... (wow and I am only going to be about 2 months late I guess)
> 
> BUT: as rating and overall tone for the extra chapter will change, I do want to say thank you to everyone who tabs out here,  
> THANK YOU for reading!  
> THANK YOU for all the lovely comments and for indulging with me!


	7. to make a home out of brittle.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RivalshippingWeek2020
> 
> BONUS DAY [ **homecoming** and/or **cactus** ]
> 
> Yes, those are my own made-up prompts.. totally made up AFTER writing the chapter =D
> 
> Yugi is coming home. And he's bringing a cactus. What can I say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to stress again that for this bonus chapter I allowed myself to switch into explicit content (Nothing too crazy, really) Still, if that is NOT your cup of tea, no need to bother.
> 
> I am usually very stealthy around explicit content, I don't write it that much but I thought hey, bonus chapter, why the heck not. Let them have some fun times.

### Twenty-six minutes to midnight.

Seto wasn’t the sentimental type. Else he might have acknowledged that this night, unlike any previous nights between them—spent with helpless flirts, work, games, or arguments—was open to a myriad of untried possibilities. What had been a constant in their story—the reliable misery of leaving a room ever unsatisfied—had turned into _n_ plausible causatums. He looked around as they talked, observing those details spilling from ripped open boxes into the apartment. Boxes that said 'Content:_____' or 'Kitchen, Bathroom, Living room, Bedroom'—waiting for the appropriate one to be circled. No circles. Virgin boxes, hiding the inside until everything lay gushed out on the floor. Towels used to wrap plates, yet no circle around 'Bathroom' and none around 'Kitchen.’ He tried to design in his mind the place that Yugi had lived in until then or the space he would create for himself here, in due time. To see the core of it and how his pieces might have been and how they would reassemble. With a sense of liberation, he acknowledged that _he couldn’t_.

It might have been that inadequacy. Or the room—captured in the still image _between a hotel and a home_. Maybe it was the ambiance painted in by the crisp night looming just outside the window. The way Yugi refused to organize his life in pre-labeled boxes. The fact that Jounouchi Katsuya _didn’t_ have a key. And Anzu Mazaki had never been here.

It could have been just the wine. Either way, this _something_ rattled him. A moment of clarity. A subtle vibration in Seto’s throat. Pushing him toward the right answer.

In the kitchen sink sat a white barrel cactus. Well, not just any. The one Yugi had stolen from Seto's office earlier that day. _I am borrowing_ _it. The apartment feels lonely without something green._

_It's white,_ Seto had argued, and Yugi had rolled his eyes and smiled.

There truly was a lot of time behind them, time they’d spent chasing. Or—in his case, _if he were honest_ —running. Seto remembered in cruel detail many of the moments between a distant _then_ and _now_ , and still, the timeline itself was foggy, the beginning of it all blurred into wasted regretful nights. Somewhere between losing Atem and losing himself, Yugi had picked him up. When, he couldn’t say.

People had never grown tired of pointing out the history between him and Yugi. Poking sticks and fingers at their rivalry to the point of it turning into a metaphor, imagery for others to gawk at. All these people didn’t know—and never had—what it was _actually_ about. They wanted them slapped onto a poster, a framed wall in central station, something to cheer at, something they could argue about, a fight that wasn’t theirs. To pick sides or leave it be. To watch during dinner. People had loved to see them face to face, the drama in their duels. The gossip behind Yugi’s employment. Always waiting for some or other news. They didn’t know better.

It was all about the exchange and all the essence—the _vision_ —buried under taunt declarations of war. The way Yugi demanded Seto to be _better_. The way Seto forced Yugi to be _fiercer_. Yes. There _was_ a lot of history between them. A lot of tragedy, too. Seto put away his glass and felt the bareness of something utterly new to him: unoccupied hands—run out of excuses.

Yugi had been talkative all night, but the apartment had fallen quiet now, accenting the Smiths’ LP hollering from a vintage record player. Not that Seto would have known had the record sleeve not been forgotten propped up on the window bank. _The world won’t listen_. He almost smiled. He didn’t like Yugi’s music taste. But he liked that Yugi had that taste in music.

Yugi sat atop the kitchen counter, legs dangling down, barely swinging, just a little. Barefood. In the background, the half-drawn curtain came to a sloppy compromise between privacy and the lit-up city beyond, outrun by nothing but a handful of clouds written into charcoal sky, periodically obscuring the edges of a full moon in pensive haze.

### Twenty minutes to midnight.

Tight black leather pants flattered slender legs, and a loose fit washed-out black hoodie with no visible branding spilled the concept with just a hint of comfort—soft shadows filled in the small gap between the neck seam and a leather choker.

Yugi’s hands lay in his lap, holding onto his leftover two ounces of Tignanello. His rings left tiny noises as his thumb rubbed the glass where the stem grew into the bowl. One of those spiral hair ties held his locks in a messy bun, allowing the dimmed kitchen lights to draw a perfect outline to his face. Casting furtive glances back at Seto, Yugi lost his smile between his parting lips. The shading in his skin left a smooth gradient, blurring beige to honey to umber. To dark chocolate on the edges. Prominent, black lashes framed glossy, needy eyes in a statement, not an afterthought.

How often had Seto seen this face and averted his eyes as if denial would help wash it away? How often had he fallen asleep thinking about it, trying to undo it in his mind with little to no hope for success? Yugi hadn’t been _love at first sight_ , far from it. It was hard to admit now, but it was the truth. His fingertips were sweaty.

He got up, watching Yugi’s posture stiffen in response. _Slightly_. A chin lifted, a leg opened up some space between itself and the other, for Seto to perfectly fit between.

Before he knew it, he grabbed Yugi’s glass and set it—hands shaking—down on the countertop. With just the same avidity he had pushed onto Yugi’s lips. Too forcibly—ending the glass in shambles against the granite surface and the sharp _clink_ turned Yugi’s head, but already Seto took back his attention, holding him locked between begging palms—a little splatter of wine on his thumb smeared onto Yugi’s skin, close to his left eye, just under. But neither of them noticed that. Because Seto’s tongue was so bold, his fingertips so hot against the skin they touched.

So far, their kisses had always felt like last chances. Singular events. _Now or never_ s. Their kisses had always been signs of desire, or of connectedness. But this one was a teaser. _Don't worry. You can come back for more. This wasn't even the best of it._ No kiss until now had been like this.

Seto’s lips had never shivered before. Their teeth had never clashed. Seto had never bit Yugi’s lip, not like this, not so hungry. He didn’t mean to, but he broke the thin skin. He had never run out of breath this quickly. Yugi’s hands were all over him; he felt them on his back, then grabbing his belt, then on his cheeks suddenly—chaotic and honest and so, _so_ starved.

If he’d think back far enough, Yugi hadn’t even been a consideration, really. He pulled back the tied hair to kiss his neck, bite the soft of his ear—

Yugi, however, was his _conclusion_. After all things had been contemplated, all shortcuts explored, Yugi had remained the only valid answer.

“ _I love you_ ,” Yugi stammered between tight breaths, yanking Seto’s shirt out of his trousers. He said it two or three times as if it could make up for years of saying it in silence. Seto picked him up. _He really didn’t mind hearing it_. Legs tightened around his body, afraid to fall. But holding Yugi was the easiest thing. All physical strength in him was meant just for that. “Seto, what—,” he whined and held onto Seto’s neck.

“There’s glass on your counter.” Seto carried him over to the bed, little care for the boxes and half adjusted furniture in his way, hoping he’d avoid the small screws and tools lying around.

Yugi laughed without relaxing. “And who’s fault is that?” He hadn’t planned for this to happen, not today, but he sure as hell wouldn’t complain—overwhelmed with butterflies in his guts and a painful erection. Ocean eyes pushing heat into his belly.

He knew very well that Seto didn’t care much for sex. So the rough approach had surprised him in the most pleasant way. Yugi enjoyed the handling. He fell backward and landed atop layers of yet-to-be-sorted cushions and blankets.

Seto pushed on top of him, his hands busy, undoing the leather trousers. No zipper. But Seto’s fingers worked precisely and without hick-ups. Like they hadn't quite understood the situation yet—button by button. Yugi watched Seto get up to undo his belt and strip his trousers. Too slow. Not slow enough. He didn’t know where to look. Chest or eyes. Belly or neck. Hands or crotch. The lights were too dim in the bedroom to see in sharp detail, but he enjoyed the insinuations, the framework he got to contour with his fingers. The next time Seto came to close the gap between them with a fevered kiss, Yugi’s nails dug deep into his back. If there was pain, it was nothing but relief. Seto pushed his weight down to show that he accepted it all. _He really didn’t mind getting hurt_. It felt good and righteous, the way they were hard against each other. He was already in love with the man, but this night he fell in love with the intoxicating, mind-numbing agony. Something _addictive_. He had not loved another like this before. If they would crash and burn, he knew it would have been worth it. Nosedive into a puddle of greed, hoping the waters were deep enough.

When Seto pinned him in place between the mattress and his body weight, significantly heavier than the other, Yugi pressed his eyes shut and his hips against the pressure. Seto pushed back the images of all the experiences shaping the man beneath him—his teeth grinding them until it hurt. _Overwrite them_. “Look at me,” he heard a breathy demand.

Yugi stripped off Seto’s shirt—the last thing left on him before his skin—and tossed it aside. Sitting himself up, his hands wandered from the small of the back to the soft hills of Seto’s butt, kiss-swollen lips settled close to his belly button, gingerly sucking and nibbling the skin.

“Stop looking past me.” Seto’s bareness—all muscles and faint scars—left Yugi light-headed. As did his heat—now trapped between their bodies. For the past year, Yugi had fallen ill with such brutal heartache that his body had taken a back seat. But his physical needs were cravings just as violent. It might have been those cravings, causing him to see visions, but every move in Seto’s face asked him for kisses. In this moment, all his antics, all the dramatics, came together and concluded in one great thespian longing for affection. And the need to fall to pieces into the hands of another. _Not just anyone_.

Yugi’s nose brushed the softer skin below his belly button, leaving behind a shiver. The jewelry on his hands sat cold against Seto’s upper thighs. It almost distracted from Yugi’s tongue coming so close to—

Seto stiffened up. In an attempt to cover the motion but also to set the scene right again, he pushed Yugi back down into the pillows, slowly lowering himself atop of him—kissing his cheeks, his chin, the reddening skin of his neck.

His muscles untensed once more when he heard Yugi moan. _Touch-deprived_. Or so it seemed. The way he bent to press his belly against Seto’s hand, which wandered across his center, so observant of the way it dictated Yugi’s movement. Having Yugi clench his hands into the sheets enticed him. The way he arched his hips. How he twitched in Seto’s palm, until—

“Stop, stop, stop, Seto. _Stop_ ,” he husked.

Before Yugi had even said his name, Seto’s hands had already retreated. Raised in front of his chest, proving he meant no harm, they remained distant. Had he messed up?

His eyes glistened, the blue still there but obscured by the night’s vintage filter. Yugi used the moment to push Seto out of control and onto the mattress, climbing on top of him, shivering legs trying so hard to sturdy him left and right of Seto’s brought, naked body.

He turned away. Catching his breath, trying to calm down. Seto’s hands were still wondering if they had wronged him in their chivalrous efforts. Yugi would have loved to tell him not to worry, but he was out of breath and way too on edge. Weak and overstimulated and, as he had straddled Seto without thinking enough about it, his crotch now sat against those tight abdominals—the thought alone made him dizzy. He would _not_ come like a fifteen-year-old just from the idea of a handjob.

The pressure in his navel didn’t vanish, but he got it under control. He lay his hands around Seto’s wrists and pinned them into the pillow, stretching himself atop of him, finding a comfortable spot between tension and repose. Strands of loose hair fell onto Seto’s neck, right above the mark where Yugi's kiss touched his collarbone so faintly it almost didn’t happen. On the floor, a phone vibrated in _Drump_ 's ending credits across the floor— _What a nerd_ , Seto thought. Through the open window, some city noise hollered inside, too. “I’m very much into the rough approach, trust me,” Yugi stuttered. “But—”

Yugi’s nose sat against the soft tissue above Seto's chest. Ambrosial essence of strong-will and pride. Leather, paired bergamot and coffee. Wild and vigorous. And something sweet hidden just under. So often had he caught this smell, and it had always just extended the distance between them. Now, it defined their togetherness.

“You… want me to stop?”

“What?” He lifted his head.

“You said _but_.” The caller gave up.

Yugi exhaled with a chuckle, feeling the movement in the wrists he held between his fingers. “No. _God no_ , that’s not what I meant.” He straightened himself, running his fingers over Seto’s arms. If someone would have told him a year ago that this moment would come—

“I just want to slow down a bit." He chewed his lip. “I mean.” He could tell by the heat in his face that his cheeks and ears had turned red. "We're not a hurry, anyway." Seto’s lips parted, but the words got stuck somewhere.

Yugi tried stretching seconds into minutes. Against the rattling in his chest, he portrayed sovereignty, playing with Seto and the feedback on his skin, as he teased him little by little, kiss by kiss along a made-up trail from chin to chest, teasing the skin around Seto’s nipple with his lips, before moving on, guided by the visible shadows the night left on the other, slowly sliding further down; a grin against the sensitive skin for Seto’s reactions flattered him—the way he clenched his hands into the pillows and his breaths got heavier. Saturated with the moment.

Yugi tasted his thighs both with his fingers and tongue. He kissed the fold where his leg met his groin. Gently, he pinned the throbbing erection down with one hand before tasting it with the tip of his tongue, feeling him move against this touch.

Seto’s fingers reached for Yugi’s hair, twirling what had come undone around his fingers, ready to pull him up, but not wanting to because his wet tongue talked sick poetry against his hunger. Seto wanted him to stop so that he wouldn’t lose himself in the indulgence. _He wasn't ready for that_. A sadistic thirst for the pain and frustration of fighting every inch of his carnal body. He reached for Yugi’s hand and pulled him back up. He hadn’t known this kind of longing. This outcry for release—and here he was, pushing it down. He pulled him in by his face, engaged him in another stormy kiss. Fighting himself and another man. “Anything but—,” he said. Fighting for control he had lost already. Fighting against sharp nails on loving hands. Scratches on his chest as Yugi sat up and pinned him down.

“Okay… I won’t,” Yugi smiled. And for a moment, they held each other’s hands, fingers interlocked, until Yugi leaned over to open the second drawer from the top of his nightstand, hands hovering above the lubricant before his eyes spotted the rolled-up, garnet silk shawl in the back. He hesitated. It prompted Seto to lift his head, spying into the drawer.

Among all the things still sprawled out cluelessly between boxes and places, this had already found a space. He would make sure to poke fun at Yugi’s priorities later. “Go ahead,” he relaxed into his own words, laying his head down again. His hands rested where Yugi had pushed them into the soft fabric.

“Are you sure?”

Seto’s eyes wandered from the shawl toward Yugi’s face and back.

“Get rid of that sweater first.”

“No.”

“Aren’t you hot?”

“It's for your eyes, not your hands. So you won’t see me anyway.”

“More reason to let me look before.” Yugi nibbed his lip, waging.

“You peeked at me in the shower once,” he tried. “So there’s nothing you don’t know yet.”

Seto bit down on his cheeks, avoiding smiling at a memory. “It’s not the same.”

“Oh my god. So you _did_ peek.” He failed to play offended and leaned to cover Seto’s eyes with his hand, bringing his lips close to Seto's ear, before he could defend himself with pointless stutters. “If you thought looking is exciting, try exploring with your fingers.”

Seto swallowed and closed his eyes—a brush of lashes against Yugi’s palm before that palm was exchanged for the smooth fabric. There was something exciting about it all—probably. But in front of that excitement lounged, like a sick hefty thick-skinned creature, the significance of giving up his visual senses. That sense that advances a warning. So you won’t fall victim to surprises. Heavy breathing tunneled his claustrophobic throat. “Let me know if it gets uncomfortable for you,” Yugi whispered a kiss to Seto’s hand.

That Yugi liked to play around didn’t come as a surprise, not at all. But of course, against all his determination to be whatever Yugi needed, to give him just what he wanted—because he deserved nothing less—bickered a harsh truth. He knew nothing about pleasing others. The last time he had slept with someone was on a regretful business trip five years prior. A calculated move, the idea of which had undoubtedly been more alluring to his partner than the act itself. Hadn’t missed it since. Nothing there he would like to take notes on to carry into this. It was the disembodied intimacy to Yugi that had come first and evoked a sensation of voracity he had not yet known—and didn’t know how to act on.

Yugi moved back, and the sensation was altogether new now. Never would he allow another person to constrain him like this. But Yugi deserved the trust he asked for, did he not? “I’ll make myself known,” Seto said, the words less straightforward than he had felt them before their creation. _If no one but him_.

Seto’s lips dried. Or they had been dry all along, and he had only noticed now. Perforce, he wetted them with his tongue, incredibly conscious about the action. And then it was hard to stop, and he did it again. And again. Until a kiss interrupted the nonsense. But even the kiss felt raw and naked and a little closer than before. _Because he hadn’t seen it coming._ Acquisitively, his fingers slid across the sheets until they found Yugi’s legs, climbed them, crawled up toward his back, and slipped beneath the hoodie.

Seto read the body in his hands, surveying the warm, tactile surface. Whenever Yugi leaned in or shifted to tend to another spot with his tongue, the way his belly folded became the main focus of Seto’s study. Slightly more toward the left, and he expected endearments to the left side of his face. Almost straight, but further down: Yugi went for the neck, sometimes for the collarbone, biting it softly. If on top of that, his muscles tensed up, he would go for his chest.

Seto listened to his heart, manically beating, and the subtle sounds of sheets moving against him. Outside, people were celebrating. As Yugi went on, Seto came to understand that it was entirely self-indulgent. Not primarily to please Seto but more so to still the appetite in Yugi himself. It wasn’t all that different then from one of their night-long games, was it? Where they each played for themselves but enjoyed it both the same. And it was never equally satisfying if it wasn’t them playing each other. When Yugi played his tongue against Seto’s nipple, he involuntarily dug his fingertips into Yugi’s thighs. “Relax a little,” he heard Yugi whisper.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he protested and unclenched his hands, not wanting to hurt him. As Seto's hands passed Yugi's butt, he tried the flesh of his cheeks, pulling them apart.

Responsively, Yugi moaned, resting his forehead against the length of Seto’s neck. “I really want you,” he husked.

Seto bit his lips shut. Although the lighting wouldn't allow it, he feared the heat in his cheeks was too visible. Not the dynamic he was used to. Before he was able to respond—not due to a lack of time, but more so because he simply didn’t know what his response to this was—he noticed Yugi shift atop of him. His legs tightened around Seto as he steadied himself. He leaned sideways, searching something in the drawer again—judging by the noise.

Did he want to ask? Should he—

When he heard the slurping sound of gelled hands working lubricant between them, he felt squirmish all of a sudden. He should probably say something. Any second, he would feel Yugi’s wetted finger press against his hole. He tried to swallow. _He should say something_. As much as he wanted to please his partner, he wasn’t ready for this. Yugi should know better! _He_ knew better. _He had read things_.

Yugi’s finger trailed across Seto’s belly and further down between his legs, easing him into the damp touch. Warm, slick hands, massaging this perineum and tugging very gently on his balls—sending him into a fit, so difficult to keep his body in check. His cock twitched away from him—a greedy thing, throbbing for the attention it already had. Yugi grabbed him at the shaft—a soft grip at first—and began to stroke his full length, a few times before including the head, applying some extra pressure along the rim.

With caution, Seto felt his way up Yugi’s inner thigh, perhaps— _if he were honest_ —to determine his size above all else. He started to handle him softly, listening to Yugi moan against the music, which wasn’t even all that bad now. While Seto always tried hard to keep his lips pressed together, controlling his noises as best as he could—pushing them out through his nose—, Yugi seemed to care very little. It made his head spin, drowning him in sensual applause.

“Keep doing that, Seto,” Yugi gasped. Seto grabbed one hand to Yugi’s butt and found that Yugi was fingering himself. Torn between ripping off the blindfold because he wanted to look at him, see him—his need for the other exploding in a surge of alleviation—, and savoring the blindness which tensed him up and made every touch twice as exotic.

“Let me do this—”

“No. Just—” He pushed Seto back into the pillows. “Let me handle it this time.”

Why? Did he think Seto couldn't do it? _Could he_? “You’re not allergic to latex, are you?”

“Wh— No.” Beneath the blindfold, he pressed his lids shut and imagined the visual of Yugi rolling the condom onto him. Did he stare at him, biting his lips, eyes full of lust? Unlike him, Yugi could see him perfectly fine. He wasn’t used to disadvantages. Seto didn't know where to place his hands—way too aware of them. Yugi chuckled and solved the issue for him, grabbing Seto’s hand with his, leading him back toward his cock. “Don’t be too gentle. I’m less fragile than I look.” Seto barely swallowed a snarky remark—offensive defense always a default setting.

Veins under smooth, thin skin. He fantasized about the shape and wondered if Yugi—unlike himself—liked oral stimulation, wondered if it was an easy thing to do. Yugi lowered himself, his hand firm support around Seto’s erection. Maybe nothing of all this was easy. Not if he wanted to do it right.

Pressing himself back into the pillows, he focused on all those well-maintained muscles. He, too, found himself unable now to stay quiet. How could something be so mind-numbing yet exhilarating? His hands reached for Yugi’s body, clinging to the slim torso beneath the thick fabric.

He pressed a palm to Yugi’s chest and parted his lips, trying to say something coherent and couldn't manage. “I’m sorry, I— I didn’t—.”

“It’s alright.” Yugi leaned forward again, and he kissed Seto. Very slowly, very gently, his nose brushing against the other’s. Until the kiss became more prominent than the rest. Until the kiss was almost all that mattered, even as Yugi started to move again. Slowly taking him all the way.

Seto’s skin was on fire; he could feel the hot sweat underneath the blindfold, just by his temples. “Does it drives you crazy that you can’t move the way you want?”

“You know it does,” Seto husked, sitting up in a short-lived attempt to find Yugi’s neck. Yugi pushed him back down and ground his hips toward the mattress, making Seto feel every deep inch of him. “Yugi— dammit.” His slick fingers held onto Seto’s chest, playing with his nipples, pinching them, then moving in a way Seto almost slipped out of him, but just almost—teasing his glans before sitting back again to take him all once more, intensifying it each time, clenching and relaxing his muscles rhythmically around his length.

Seto bent beneath him, a shaken pile of heat in Yugi’s center, an antitail of sensual moaning. Nails in a sweater. Couldn’t care less if he’d break it. “Yugi, I—”

Yugi moved faster and, once more, grabbed Seto’s hand to lead it back to touch him. “Seto—” he lost his words in loud breathing. Seto’s muscles spasmed, and as much as he tried to pin down Yugi’s motions, he couldn’t. Trapped with no control over anything but the choice to follow Yugi’s conducting or not.

He bit down on his lips and sat up. He would not let Yugi push him back again. He claimed him, hands pressed into Yugi’s back, plastering his neck with kisses, marking him with lips and teeth, restricting his movements just a little. He wasn’t gentle, and Yugi knew the way he scratched Seto’s back would do nothing but add fuel to the fire. _Good_. It would have been a surprise if he’d remained passive all the way. There _was_ no passive in Seto—out of breath, sweat on his forehead, hands shaking, pacing between instinct and insecurity. Hair in a mess between a pyromaniac's fingers.

Chafing against Seto, Yugi threw his head back—the choker clenched around his neck, and just beneath, Seto’s teeth teased his skin, undoing him completely. “Bite me,” he pushed out between husky breaths. And—unsurprisingly, really—it prompted Seto to lift his head away from him, uncertain whether he had understood.

It hadn't been a casual bite me. More like an italic _bite me_. “What?”

“Sorry, I…” Unrest shredded his voice. Heat in his cheekbones, he forced himself to slow down. “You don— don't have to, of course.” Had he said too much? He swallowed when Seto leaned in, lips hovering above Yugi's ear first, then moving below, kissing the smooth skin underneath, tasting the sweat—working his way toward the shoulders, drawing the fabric of the sweater to expose the skin there.

With the violent pounding of his heart in his ears, Seto got lost in the night underneath his blindfold, birthing colored rectangles before his eyes. Biting? By no means proper instructions. And he should just ask for guidance. _Communication is everything_. But the question sat low and heavy in his brain and remained there. He snapped out of the thought when his head was pushed closer, almost causing him to recoil as his teeth sank deeper where he had placed them to the warm surface. It was scary. In the way accelerating his car on the wind-whipped freeway was, overtaking two racing trucks. He teased the flesh, and Yugi’s moaning grew louder as he resumed his motions, riding against Seto, still holding his head locked. “God, yes—” The pain in his voice was dripping lust. Seto almost choked on it. _He wouldn’t know when to stop_. He felt dizzy, riddled in his yearning because Yugi moved so sensually, making everything of the little space he had. Eventually, Seto had no choice but to let go, lifting his head back for air. Yugi immediately pulled him into a hug, grabbing his hair, pressing his chest against Seto’s. Yugi was close; it was evident by how his movements had unraveled, lost in chaotic beats. Seto grabbed his hips, guiding him back into a rhythm, lifting and lowering him in just the perfect tempo. Yugi’s embrace became so strong, almost painful. _He really didn't mind getting hurt_. He heard him moan and stutter his name and lose his composure, just before he spilled out in successive eruptions, leaving a hot mess between their bellies. He buried his face in the curb of Seto’s neck, his hips still pressed down into his crotch, moving largely in after effects.

He took just a few seconds, resting sweaty and warm against Seto. His sweater curled between their bodies, pushed up over his chest, but covering his arms down to his fingertips—even Seto could not deny that the comfort he had seen in it just at the end of last year had carried over into this moment, and he adored the cheap fabric on his skin.

It didn't take long, after Yugi picked up his pace again, until Seto, too, gave in to the pressure—ripples going through him he shattered in Yugi’s embrace. And it should have been a somatic process—that moment when lines between humans and animals blurred into question marks that were really just periods—shivering, while Yugi plastered small kisses all over his cheeks and nose and lips and his neck, mumbling it over and over and over. _I love you, I love you, I love you._ It was not at all exclusively physical.

Holding each other, they waited for the well to ebb. Seto thought it was never going to stop. But the numbness in his fingertips seized with each moment he allowed the tiredness to wash further into him. Yugi’s skin was damp from sweat and heat. And after that, the apartment around them came back into focus, too. A faint exhalation from the AC and the rustling caused by the draft against wrapping paper. Shifts in the air. The equable white noise of a needle at the end of a Smiths LP. Drunk people out on the streets—unbelievable what noise the wind could carry up. The applauded of an audience, even now. No. Not here for them. _The world didn't listen_.

Cozy within his thoughts, all wrapped up and close, he wasn’t used to and didn’t know how to let go; He startled when Yugi’s thumbs slipped beneath the blindfold, pushing it up into Seto’s messy hair. If it were possible, Seto would have pulled Yugi closer. _I love you, too_ , Seto thought, and Yugi closed his eyes and smiled before he finally slid off him, making sure the condom stayed put until he removed it.

When he came back to lie on top of Seto, snuggling into his chest after superficially cleaning them with some tissue, Seto’s fingers lay powerless on the sheet, tips icy. Yugi caressed the white of Seto’s forearm, tracing the lines left by a full moon's reflection. He was tired. His chest moved in accordance to the night sinking into his brain. This was how it could be from now on. He reached for his phone. Almost one. That was the first time in his life that he had missed the countdown. A dozen missed calls from his friends. Didn't it ring just once? He'd never hear the end of that. He was kind of looking forward to it. Ryou would want to hear it all. Katsuya would throw a fit. There was always next year.

Seto lifted one of the heavy arms to fish for his phone, which kept flashing for attention, too. He had to make an effort since he had placed it neatly atop of his folded trousers earlier, unlike Yugi, who had lost his just next to the bed when looking for wine glasses much earlier in the evening. He moaned because everything was asking too much right now. Notifications plastered the screen. Messages for the most part—Mokuba, Isono, Ishizu Ishtar, Ryou Bakura, an unsaved number he knew was Jounouchi—and two missed calls. Mokuba. Both. He put it aside before he realized that he had forgotten to check the time. But it didn’t matter.

Yugi slumbered into his arms and snuggled close. “Hey, Seto.”

“Hm.”

“Which bed is more comfortable, this or yous? Asking for a friend.”

Seto chuckled—unable to help himself—and pressed Yugi closer.

“Happy New Year to you, too.” Even though Seto couldn’t see it, Yugi chose to roll his eyes and grunted. For Seto to choose this slip-up to beat him in a game of social norms! He didn’t need to look up to know he smirked over his victory. It was alright. He could have that one. Yugi would forever hold the big _W_ . Counting the days it would take Seto to be able to say _I love you_. Just to never ever hold it against him. Yugi listened to the morse code of the heart beneath his ear. It was supposed to be calming. But he thought it stimulating, if anything. He counted the beat against the ticking of the wall clock. "Why did you take the cactus?"

"I was thinking how sad it would be if you tossed it out the window again next time we fight."

"I won't. I want it back. It was a present."

"You don't even like cacti."

"I like this one."

Yugi _hmm_ ed. "Why is that?"

"It reminds me of the person that gave it to me."

Against the forces of his own, heavy fatigue, Yugi lifted his head and looked at him. "How so?"

Seto fondled Yugi’s ear, playing with two small black rings. He caressed his cheek; the back of his fingers sat cool against still gleaming skin. "It evokes the need to touch it. A perfect sphere, with no edges."

"Silly. It hurts when you touch it." Seto laughed and closed his eyes. _He really didn’t mind getting hurt_. "Only if you’re not doing it right. And he is so..." He applied a pause. "So very strong-willed. Enduring. Even if no one asked him to. He smells nice." A short, snorty laugh escaped him, barely. Too weak, for he was half asleep. "I googled how they look in bloom. And it is quite beautiful, actually."

Yugi draped a blanket across himself, leaving half of Seto's body exposed. He would find one himself if needed. His head was back where it ought to be, right by Seto's chest. "I'm keeping it. You’re welcome to visit anytime." Seto's fingers combed through his hair, now and then, his nails scratched the top layer of skins, sending shivers down Yugi's spine.

“It’s the same, by the way,” Seto murmured.

“Same?”

“The mattress in this apartment and mine are the same.” Yugi lifted himself out of the embrace once more, looking down into Seto’s eyes. He was already hard again. Seto must have felt it against his leg. He chuckled and closed his eyes, pushing Yugi's head back toward his chest. “I don’t sleep well otherwise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Afterthoughts:
> 
> Thanks, everyone! I think I could go and edit this on for years to come, but I want to come to an end as well. So here we go.
> 
> I actually don't have much to say. I think I will leave it up to you, if you feel the need to say something, you can blast me in the comments.   
> I love bottom Seto so I had to compromise here (So had Yugi). But rest assured they will switch things up in the future.
> 
> I don't know. It was fun. I guess. Thank you for having me! 
> 
> PS: human teeth are dangerous, please bite with care. (or just don't)

**Author's Note:**

> ~find me on [Tumblr](https://hakaibunshi.tumblr.com/)


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